THE PRICE OF LOVE.

THE PRICE OF LOVE.



Sue looked at the clock, it was 7.30am, and she thought, better to go over before that ‘ big shot’ leaves for work. She walked pass an Audi and a Mercedes parked in the driveway. Ahmed, the driver was cleaning the Mercedes.

Ahmed smiled, ‘Morning Aunty Sue’
Sue muttered, ‘morning, tuan Micheal still eating ‘? Without waiting for an answer, she went into the house.

At the table, she saw her friend Lilly, her eldest son, Micheal and his wife. Her two youngest daughters, were having their breakfast.Today they were having bacon and eggs, served by the maid.

Lily said, ‘You are very early this morning, had your breakfast? Do join us.’
To the maid, Lily said, ‘Please, Mona, bring a plate’.
Sue replied, ‘No, no, no, I cannot eat, I, so angry! So upset, so depressed, my heart very pain’

Every one put their cutlery down and looked at her with frowns, shaking their heads. Was this one of her out burst of ‘life’s happenings?’

She whispered, ‘Is it true, that you people want to put your mother in a Home? How can you do this.She is such a sweet and gentle lady. True, she had a fall, but she is still mobile with her walking stick,she is not in any one’s way.

What is the problem with you young generation? Selfish, no feelings, no tolerance, so painful, so sad. Why, why, why huh?’
Lily whispered , ‘Shh, Sue, don’t say any more.’

Micheal said, ‘Aunty Sue, we don’t understand what you are trying to tell us, where did you hear this.’
Sue, shaking her finger at him, ‘Don’t you worry about that, I have my sources, just tell me, true or not. You know, your mother sacrificed a lot for you all.
Her freedom, her career just to bring the seven of you up. She wanted a big family, see, what happens now? During her time, your father, bless his soul, was only a clerk. She took in ironing and washing to get by. No maid, no driver. Even sewing your clothings herself.’

Lily replied, ‘I liked doing all that, Sue, please calm down’.
Sue retorted ,‘Of course we love doing all that, we did it with love, we love them above all others, our children. Now, how can they send you to a Home? Is that their way of repaying you with love.?

Why, why, tell me. I learned in my Chinese school, even the birds will feed their mothers when they are old and cannot fly. We are humans; we can do better than this.

One mother can take care of seven children, why seven children cannot take care of one mother, why?. Huh.?

I have known your mother since we were five years old; we went to kindergarden, through to high school together. We even bought a house next to each other; she is closer to me than my own sister. I will not allow you all to do this to her.’

Micheal sighed, ‘Aunty Sue, you got it all wrong ,we thought mama was feeling lonely and need company her own age. She even stopped playing “mah cheong’. In the Home she’ll be taken care of.’

Sue replied, ‘Taken care of? You must be joking! Have you not heard about how the ‘ahmahs’ there abuse the poor helpless folks? This is your mother, the one that gave you life, Micheal, let me tell you, we are getting old; we need our children to show that they care, be concern about our well-being.

When was the last time you took your mama to the Dr.? All you say is, ‘Ahmed, drive mama to the Dr., Mona follow her. However, with your own son, you bring him to the Dr. yourself. Not right Micheal, not right.

Today, you are the manger of a company, a ‘big shot’. Yearly holidays overseas.
There are seven of you, all very well off. Take turns mah, take her for holidays too.

“Remember Lily” we said, when the children are all grown up, we’ll see the world?”
Lily? Why no ‘mah cheong’? Because she is sad!
Show her love, show her that you all care, it cost nothing, but a bit of your time. It will mean a lot to her.’

Micheal said, ‘Yes, Aunty Sue, we’ll be more caring and spend more time with her; we do love her a lot. You know, with our Asian up bringing, we often don’t know how to show our feelings. I guess we have to start to learn again.’

Sue turned to Lily, ‘See, everything is taken care of, you have to tell them how you feel. These young people need to be reminded often. I’ll arrange a mah cheong session with our old friends. Be happy; enjoy it with family and friends’.

This is a real life scenario about the way of life in the Asian society, names have been changed.
copyright(c)lilly-sue2005.

THE RUBBER TREES.

Non fiction manuscript as told by my brother.
Copyright© by lilly-sue2005.

Extract from my ‘yet to be published book “WHISPERS THROUGH THE CORRIDOR”.

April, 20th Monday, 1953.
The day and year I’ll always remember. My first day getting ready for school. I’ve missed school for a year because I had to tap rubber. Living in a rubber estate is like a dream with no ending.

In a Malaysian rubber estate, the workers are given housing, with free water and electricity. The water that came as a trickle was on from 8am to 6pm from a tap in front of the house.

The house is just a room 12ft.by 12ft. with a window and door. ¾ of the room is a wooden platform, 2 ½ ft high. We slept on this with only pillows and blankets.

Every block had 8-10 rooms, 2 families shared a bathroom. A bathroom that had ½ a roof, this made it easier to catch rain water. There was a veranda in front of the rooms and a raised cement table, one table for 2 families. On this was 6 bricks, this was our kitchen.

For fuel, we collected twigs and chopped up fallen trees. The toilet was about 20ft. at the back of our rooms.
We, the kids would never use those toilets. The smell and the fear of falling into the bucket were too great to even try. We often dug holes around the estate to do our business.

I hated this estate.
Last year, when I was 7 years old, my foster mother and sister, 2 years my senior taught me how to tap a rubber tree.

Learning to tap the tree was not the hard part; I learned very quickly. After a week I was given 300 trees to tap. The worst part was waking up at 3.30am, still half asleep, being bragged onto the back of my sister’s bicycle and the horrible bumpy ride. It took us 20mins to get there.

Arriving at the little shed we collected our pails and head band fitted with a light, and had to start work immediately. Every minute counts, work had to be done by 10 am. Once the sun was up, the trees will not yield much latex.

I hated the eerie darkness, the howling wind; leeches that suck your blood made me hate the estate even more. Every day telling myself I must find a way to leave this horrid place.

I hated the rain. The stories about suicide ghosts with their tongue hanging down to their waist. Ghosts with no legs, floating down the trees with their guts training along looking for victims. The howling wind and rustling leaves made these stories come to life, in my mind.

And in my years tapping rubber, I have never once looked up to see the tree tops. I did my tapping as fast as I could, praying for the first ray of sunlight. Sunlight, the only weapon to destroy the ghosts.

My first encounter with leeches was last week, it rained heavily that night and the next morning the ground was wet and muddy. After tapping ten trees, I heard my sister shouting, ‘Watch out for the leeches’. I replied, ‘Where?’ She said, ‘On your legs’.

Looking down, with the light from my head band, I saw little black knobs on my feet and up my legs. I was only wearing tongs and shorts. I tried to shake them off but nothing happened, I screamed and panicked, running to her.

I tried to brush them away, Why won’t they fall off,? Why did it not hurt? I tried to pull them off; they just got longer and stuck on.
My sister said, ‘Don’t panic, put some of your saliva on them and they’ll fall off ’.

I was crying and trembling, ‘Put saliva, how much? There are millions of them on my legs; I don’t have that much saliva!’
She said, ‘Usually when they are full with your blood they’ll fall off, but try scraping with your knife.

Next time, after a rain, you must tuck your pants inside your socks and really bind them tight, so none of the leeches can go on you. Wear shoes, and long pants.’

Stilling crying I shouted; ‘Now you tell me. When I’m being sucked to death!’ It was a lesson well learned.
As I looked at my books, even though they were secondhand, I saw hope. Hope that with a better education I would be able to leave this place.

SOME THING ABOUT EGGS.

SOMETHING ABOUT EGGS


Eggs are eggs are eggs! There is something about eggs that I really do not understand. Maybe because of my Asian up bringing where females are considered inferior,, and the males rule. The males' demands and needs were always the priority. Even the simple egg was more for the males than the females.

During the 40s’ eggs was something only the affluent could eat. Why? I was never told. As a child, I remember having two hard boiled eggs for my birthday, coloured red if my mother had the time.

I did ask my mother once, ‘ Why can’t I have soft eggs ?, her reply,’ When you break a soft egg, it flows out, messy, but with a hardboiled egg you get a complete smooth egg, so for your birthday you should have a smooth and complete start.’

I also remember my grandmother collecting eggs from the hen house with such loving care, holding them tenderly, putting them away in a basket till there was a dozen. Then one night, she’d light a small lamp and look through the eggs one by one.
I could not understand what she was doing; she’d say ‘I’m looking for the chicken in the egg’
The next day she’d take the eggs to the hen house and let the mother hen sit on them.
32 days later, like magic, she said, ‘Come see the baby chickens, see, there was a chicken in each egg, 'I looked at her and wondered, how?

When the chickens grew big and we had it on the table,I’d tell myself, 'That’s why the egg is so precious, there’s a chicken inside it, if we ate the egg, there won’t be a chicken on the table’.

When my cousin came for visits in our later years, we used to talk about old times; those were the days; happy, sad, all filled with nostalgia. She said,’ Back then, when I had to make breakfast for the family, I wanted so much to eat an egg’.

My reply,’ Why didn’t you’ She said ‘How could I, your mother counts the eggs the night before, two for your father, one for each boy, one for your sister, I have to do six soft eggs each morning, but one day ,I did get to eat an egg.’ I said,’ How so’? She replied, ‘ one of the boys was late for school, didn’t have time for breakfast, so I cracked it in a bowl, took it to the bathroom and gulped it down’.

I asked, ‘Did you put soy sauce on it ‘? Her reply, ‘ What do you think, it went down so fast, I didn’t even taste it, or what was so good about the egg!.
We really had such a good laugh over it, even till today when ever I’m having an egg or thinking of her, I’ll smile and think of the precious EGG.

Everyone loves eggs. The irony is, now we can buy and eat eggs every day, but for heath reasons, its not good for high blood pressure and, bad for cholesterol , so we still have to limit ourselves to eggs!

Cooked one way or other, it’s a complete food and cheap, there are so many choices to choose from, barn laid, free range, organic, vegetarian, omega-3 and so on and so on. I would say my grandmother’s eggs are the best, organic free range eggs, even though I didn’t get to eat a lot of them.

Copyright©bylilly-sue.2005.

THE BITCHES OF SHADY LANE

THE BITCHES OF SHADY LANE.

The bitches of Shady Lane are fierce, noisy, nosey and they bite. They sometimes come over to smell you, nudge and lick you, that is the 4 legged kind.
But the 2 legged ones are the most dangerous ones; they bite you before you even know what bit you.

The terrible hurricanes even have female names!
They swallow you whole and spit out your bones!

They could be your wife, your mother, your sister, your daughter, any female with a chip on their shoulder. Beware; the bitches are very very nasty, it is best to keep out of their way when they are on the kill.

There are the manipulative ones, when they make an appointment, it is only to suit themselves, no matter how hard you try, and you either go with the flow to avoid further arguments or die in the attempt. They are selfish, calculative and sweet.

They can agree to your arrangements but at the last minute they would turn around and you won’t even know what hit you.
They can butter you so sweetly that you won’t know that you‘ve been suckered until it is too late to change anything.

There are some that love to brag, brag, brag, brag, about their husbands, their children, their holidays, their houses, their cars. Anything, maybe to make you feel small, maybe they like to hear their own voices!

Some would really say things to make you hate them, this is the worst kind. They bang you down and the next day they are at your door step, as if nothing happened. Then they sweet talk you for a favour and once more you are a sucker!

The die hard type .They won’t listen to your excuses, they just rattle on and on about how long they waited for you, but if they are late, they’ll just say, ‘I told you I’ll be late, I told you!’

If you offer them your best dish, they'll just gobble it up without a compliment and say, ' where is the recipe?'
Sounds familiar? I bet you it does!
They think it is beneath them to be courteous.

Bitches, bitches are bitchy, they are the greedy ones, the ones that would bare your fruit tree when you offer them to help themselves! There are ones who would pick your tree bare and then throw out the ones with the tiniest blemish! (your precious fruits!)

BUT, all is not lost! If you can speak louder than them, talk down to them, you still have a chance of survival. The bitches tend to be cowards so you have to match them at their own game. I have never heard a bitch apologize!

The best way is to keep away from them, have nothing to do with them, then maybe they’ll look for another victim to kill!
copyright (c)by Lilly-sue.2005.