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Saturday August 29, 2009

Appreciating life

NAVEL GAZER
By ALEXANDRA WONG


Our columnist celebrates a lifetime of magical stories with her father.

So, do you think I’ve changed much?”

This is a perfectly natural, if coy, question since Wai Leong and I have not met in nearly 20 years.

“You look more and more like your dad!”

I get that a lot.

“Oh yes. I forgot we were not just tuition mates . . . my father was once a teacher in your school, right?” I say.

“What subject did he teach in ACS (the Anglo Chinese School)?”

“He taught us Chinese POL (Pupils’ Own Language) classes,” Wai Leong recalls.

“When you see your dad, please tell him how much I enjoyed his classes. You know how easily distracted we kids were, but your dad held our attention by weaving interesting stories into his lessons. I can still recall his riveting account of the Three Kingdoms.”

Alexandra Wong’s father’s class at the Anglo Chinese School.

Ah, yes, I could relate to that. As a child, my favourite part of the day was bedtime, when Dad would perch on my bedside and spin the most marvellous stories from the Chinese books he had devoured as a young scholar.

My personal Aesop set my imagination aflame with tales of wise scholars, dashing princes, courageous soldiers and beautiful deities. They were a nice counterpoint to the equally enjoyable English storybooks and cerita dongeng I read in school.

Still, there was nothing quite like a live storytelling session, as my personal penglipur lara skilfully conveyed life lessons through simple, evocative anecdotes that even a child could appreciate.

Storytelling has become an inseparable part of our family. His stories come in handy in more ways than one: to break the ice, to entertain my friends, and once in a while, to gently impart a message, without talking down or preaching.

If good doctors have a pill for every ill, my dad seemed to have a fable for every moral.

Like recently, when I learnt that I had to undergo an operation to take out my gall bladder. I was devastated, since I had always prided myself on being as healthy as a horse.

Undaunted, on the eve of the operation, dad and mum attempted to cheer me up by whisking me to Restoran Meng Meng Kee (Persiaran Kledang Timur 19, Bandar Baru Menglembu, Ipoh) for my favourite Ipoh delicacy: chee cheong fun.

The buttery, creamy, memorable white coffee from Nam Chau.

It was a last culinary hurrah of sorts, for post-operation, I was supposed to abstain from oily, greasy food since my fat digestion efficiency would be temporarily impaired.

Unfortunately, the shop was closed, so we settled for a corner coffeeshop nearby.

“By the way,” my mother said casually, “Nam Chau has opened a branch just diagonally opposite (22, Persiaran Kledang Timur 21, Bandar Baru Menglembu, Ipoh).”

My eyes lit up. About two years back, I had waxed lyrical about their excellent white coffee for a food review in the Weekender.

“Oh really? I think I’ll go over and have a cuppa for old times’ sake,” I said delightedly.

Little did I know another surprise awaited me. While scouring the premises for a seat, my eyes landed on my erstwhile review, framed and hanging from their wall. Chuffed to bits, I asked the si thau phor (lady boss) to pixelate the moment for posterity.

By the time I bounced back into the car, where my parents were waiting, my spirits had improved considerably.

“I feel very lucky,” I bubbled. “Even though I didn’t get to eat the chee cheong fun, I unearth another happy find.”

“Yup,” Mother concurred. “Sai Ung Sat Ma.”

“What’s that?”

From my handicapped Mandarin, I knew it was a Chinese idiom, but the actual meaning was beyond my ken.

Alexandra as a three-year-old with her dad.

Mother turned expectantly to Father, the family’s official raconteur. He caught the baton without missing a beat.

“Sai Ung Sat Ma is a Chinese proverb derived from a legend about an old farmer named Ung who lived in Sai, which means the outskirts of the northern Chinese border.

“When war broke out, the government started conscripting for soldiers and Old Man Ung had a son of eligible age. He most certainly would have joined his comrades in war, except for an unexpected twist of fate.

“Now, the old farmer kept horses. One night, one of his horses broke loose from the stable. It returned the next morning, with another horse in tow, which the son was eager to try out. Alas, the new horse went wild and threw the young man off, breaking his leg in the process.

“The old man also lost the horse. When the war came, many people died on the battlefield, including their neighbour’s son. But for the farmer, however, the loss turned out to be a blessing in disguise. As a result of his broken leg, Ung Jr could not fight in the war, and this possibly spared him his life.

“That is why we say, Sai Ung Sat Ma (Border Ung Lose Horse). He may have lost a horse, but in return he gained something even better — his son’s life.”

“Who would have thought four words can mean so much? Sai Ung Sat Ma,” I repeated the words to familiarise myself.

“Just like when you came out of your corporate job, you gained so many new experiences and friends,” my dad continued.

I pondered over his words. Oddly, I had never seemed to enjoy such serendipity when I was in the corporate line. Yet, from the moment I took that leap of faith and left my corporate job, I seemed to bump into one good samaritan after another through the most extraordinary chain of events, many of whom have become fodder for this column.

If I had lost quite a bit of material wealth by switching careers, the wonderful new friends and rich experiences I gained along the way more than made up for it.

Dad interrupted my reverie by concluding, “In life, there are ups and downs. You must take things easy, even when you lose something valuable, like Old Man Ung and his horse. Everything has a silver lining.

Alexandra says she is lucky to have a father filled with bundles of sunshine and song.

“As the song goes in The Sound of Music: For somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”

To underscore his point, my father spontaneously broke into song.

I smile at the memory, as Wai Leong and I continue to reminisce about old times, thinking how lucky I am to have a father filled with bundles of sunshine and song.

If previously I only understood, now I appreciate why, years after they leave school, my father’s ex-students still speak fondly of their lao shi.

Wai Leong has an equally interesting story of his own.

“There was a declamation competition for Sixth Formers in Kolej Tuanku Ja’afar. My fellow contestants recited among others, Tennyson & Luther King. I chose to tell an old Chinese fable of the Great Wall of China of Meng Jiang Nu (Lady Cries at the Wall). I won the declamation prize, and for that I had to ‘perform’ the same piece again before the Agung during the college’s 1st Commemoration Day.

“Ever since the ‘‘unforgettable’’ performance, the Kolej Pengetua has referred to me as ‘China Wall’!”

o The gall bladder operation did turn out to be a blessing in disguise for Alexandra Wong (bunnysprints.blogspot.com). Post-operation, she dropped ten pounds, began a regular exercise regime (which she has maintained), and regained her overall health and well-being. What loss again?

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