When to walk away

Adapted from The Star Monday 24 September 2012

Addiction takes many forms as many of us are painfully aware of.

It seems that I now have a slight cholesterol problem, which has prompted me to change my eating habits and undertake regular exercise. When I say "slight", I mean that if you were to cut my arteries and open you would probably find them lined with a mixture of rich creamy Gorgonzola, crisp sharp Cheddar and crumbly Parmesan cheeses, such has been my life-long affair with the stuff.

As soon as I'd received the bad news, I headed home, opened my fridge door and looked at my stash of cheese. I know we should never stare at our enemies longingly, but I couldn't help myself. Cutting back was going to be difficult. Over the next few days, the more I thought about not eating cheese, the more I wanted to have it. Addictions are like that. Deprived of my fix, I became obsessed with it. Suddenly, the only food worth eating had cheese in it.

"You need to find a substitute for cheese," said a friend, trying to be helpful. "You can get some non-dairy cheese in the health food section in the supermarket. When people are coming off heroin, they often take methadone, a synthetic opioid, to help them make the transition. I guess it will be just like that."

"You're comparing cheese to heroin?"I asked. "Well, they both can kill you, if you don't control your intake." It was obvious that I needed to find a substitute for my friend's advice.

I did look at the cheese alternatives available, but there's no way that I'm going to subject myself anemic soy cheese, or some doubtful plastic stuff that only melts at 1000 degree celcius or textured protein slices that are so tough that they can be used to re-sole your shoes. Any such substitutes would just makeme yearn for real cheese all the more and serve to underscore my deprivation.

Of course, it's not just my cheese intake that's now restricted. Many other favourite foods have also been put on the warning list: nasi kandar, char koay teow, nasi lemak, roti canai, pisang goreng, and mee goreng,to name just a few of the Penang specialities that have found a place in my heart, and possibly my arteries over the years.

My partner, a sickneningly healthy man who gets a huge kick out of eating nuts and fruits and running around a squash court for several hours, must have felt a bit sorry for me, because he went out and bought me a present.

"Ah, what a thoughtful man," I can hear some of you saying just about now. Ah, but wait till you hear what he bought for me.

A pedometer.

Other women get flowers, or jewellery, or perfume when they are feeling down in the dumps, but I get a device that counts every step I take. "If you want to get healthy, you need to take at least 10000 steps a day," said my partner. "It's a good starting point."

A good starting point? What did he want me to do? Walk to the moon and never come back?

Of course, since he was so concerned, the least I could dowas humuour him. However, I'm ashamed to admit that outside of holidays, when I can hike for miles without complaint, walking is pretty much an alien activity to me. If I want to go anywhere, I almost always take my car. And if there's a drivethrough option for buying food (usually contain cheese) or paying bills, that's where you'll find me.

I have since discovered that it takes 38 steps to get from my bed to the fridge, where my cheese is stashed -  I now limit myself to a small piece once a week. My partner, who doesn't have a cholesterol problem, continues to eat cheese whenever he wants to. But he does so discreetly.

While I'm doing my grocery shopping (2000 steps), he can indulge in any number of artery clogging activities, as long as he doesn't tell me every excruciating detail of the experience afterwards. Likewise, while I'm enduring speed walk(7000 steps) every other day, he can happily get stuck into a melting Camembert, far from my deprived eyes.

Contrary to my intitial reaction to the pedometer, the gagdet has now become my new addiction. Why, last night I even paced up and down my bedroom floor for 10 minutes, just so I could achieve my "step quota" before going to sleep. When my partner found out what I was doing, he whipped out his handphone.

"Say cheese!" he said, as he clicked on the camera function. I couldn't help but smile.

Love her, warts and all

Adapted from The Star Sunday July 22 2012

I was about seven when I was told something which amazed me. We were on our way to church that Sunday morning and beside me sat Nanny. She was her usual self, chirpy and well-prepared with nonsensical questions regarding anything and everything that was mentioned during the entire journey.

She didn't expect any answers as the questions were raised to fill in the gaps when silence crept in. Sort of like a cue card contrived to throw us off track so that we would repeat ourselves and include her in the conversation. Cheeky. Along the way, dad made a sharp turn and we were on Jalan Sungei Besi. It was the first time that morning that I bothered to look out the window. Straight ahead on my right, slightly below the white clouds that illuminated the dark sky was a hangar.

Airplanes of different sizes and models were in the hangar. A big green helicopter that looked battered stood out. It reminded me of the aircraft summoned to war during the attack on Pearl Harbour.

I ooh-ed and aah-ed and, noticing the gleam in my eyes, Nanny said that in her early days, she used to fly it. being too little to tell the difference between her lying and her honest face, I believed her. Besides, she had the most innocent eyes, the kind children have.

Some months back, we passed by the hangar again and I suddenly remembered what Nanny had told me that Sunday years ago. This time, however, I started to doubt her words, to the point that I couldn't just let it go. So, with her seated beside me again, I decided to bring it up.

I asked Nanny about the olive green helicopter. I interrogated her. After a few minutes, I realised how stupid it sounded. But, being senile but not deaf, she heard me, registered my questions for a while and, without giving me a straight answer, she began to laugh her wicked-witch laugh. I knew then that she was just messing around with me. Even so, I sulked during the entire ride home.

This, coming from the person who taught me to always tell the truth and that even is you tell a little white lie, it's still a lie. I couldn't believe it. The seven year old me would have cried, but the 18 year old me just sat in a corner and kept to myself. I wondered if Nanny would have told the older me the truth. But I then realised that it wouldn't matter either way. In life, there are people you can stay mad with but who don't give a damn if you ever forgive them or not.

There are also the handful people whom you can squabble with, and have tiff after tiff. But at the end of the day, you realise that even if it wasn't your fault and you aren't willing to apologise, you will do so anyway because you cherish your relationship with them more than your pride and ego. Nanny is one of those people.

I'm beginning to cherish and appreciate my grandma a little more these days. I know I should have started a long time ago. Right now, she's sitting on her usual right-side of the sofa, as she flips through the newspaper. I glance at her every now and then I think of the times I put my pride ahead of my better judgement, which led to never-ending disagreements. I think of the times I raised my voice while tyring to put my point across to her. I think of the times I shouted back at her when she was just advising me to be careful. As I replay those horrible incidents, a wave of regret washes over me.

Nanny is only a few feet away from me and I miss her, and that's never a good way to miss someone. We haven't fought for a few weeks now and I'm beginning to believe that my Wednesdays aren't cursed at all.

I hope she knows that I love her. She is the only grandparent I have left, and no matter what, there will always be a part of me that's willing to do anything to see and make her happy :)

"Lost" generation given hope

Adapted from The Stars, Sunday 1 July 2012

Wang Ming has visited three provinces in China since the beginning of 2011. That's not bad going for a 12-year-old. Without a guidebook or a change of clothes, the boy took nothing but 200 yuan to 300 yuan (RM100 to RM 150) for each trip. Sharing a passion for globe-trotting with his hero Bear Grylls in the tv programme Man vs Wild, he has attempted to realise his dreams by becoming a runaway.

At a juvenile centre in Beijing, Wang is among 40 children brought in off the streets. Some ran away from home, others were abandoned. Since it opened in 2003, the centre has helped more than 5000 "lost" children. It's difficult to gauge how many children are living rough on China's streets, but on June 1 the Ministry of Civil Affairs revealed that more than 10000 juveniles nationwide had been rescued or were being given shelter and protection in government-run-centres from January to April this year.

A 2007 survey conducted in nine cities, including Beijing, Hangzhou and Shanghai, by the National Working Committee on Children and Women under the State Council, estimated the number to be between one million and two million. Situated close to Beijing's East 5th Ring Road, the pink roofs of the centre's six bungalows are bright and vivid in a sea of grey or white builidngs. Youngsters aged between three and 18 - mostly from rural areas in provinces such as Hebei, Henan, Sichuan, and the Ningxia Hui autonomous region - make up the bulk of inhabitants.

"The children sent here are those who can't remember where they're from or who haven't contacted their relatives for many years," said Xu Dong, director of the centre, who explained that domestic abuse, difficult relations with parents or a cripplingly low standard of living are the reasons usually cited when the children are asked why they ran away.

Wang's story is slightly different. His parents are divoreced and Wang and his older sister have been living with their father in a village in Jiangsu province in East China. Wang's father works in construction and rarely has time to devote to his children or their education. Wang found himself at loose end. "I don't like school or the village. They're so boring," he said, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously.

Xu said that many of the children give false names and lie about their backgrounds when they first admitted to the center to avoid being sent home, but they usually end up admitting the truth once they learnt to trust the staff. That was the case with Wang, who was persuaded to reveal his real address and contact details for his father.

"I don't want to stay here, even though it's nice to have clean clothes and sleep in comfortable bed," he said. He ran away from home early last month and sneaked onto a Beijing-bound train. This latest escapade followed two previous attempts to break free when he travelled to the provinces of Guangdong and Yunnan "to see those beautiful sites", he admitted, as he described the bridges and mountains he'd seen. With little money in his pocket, he ate food provided by locals until the police sent him to the juvenile centre.

According to Xu, this type of "free travelling" is quite normal for runaway kids. They can easily avoid detection and the ticket checks on trains, although Wang occasionally bought a ticket using an ID card he found in the street and the money he had "borrowed" from home. The mini-adventurer is driven by wanderlust.

"I saw people travelling to famous places on TV, and I wanted to be just like them," he said. In the early days of his trip to Beijing, his love of TV prompted him to visit the Military Museum of Chinese People's Revolution. "I knew the museum from a TV programme. It's a place I dreamed about," he said.

Like Wang, who is moving from childhood to a sense of self engendered by adolescence and beginning to pursue his own choices, most of the children at the centre are 11 to 16 years old but few have close connections with their immediate family. However, their lifestyles have provided them with strong survival skills. roaming the bar areas of North 2nd Ring Road, Wang spent most of his days in electronic games arcades, picking up dropped coins to feed the machines, and slept on park benches at night.

A number of residents provided food, including an African man who piqued the boy's curiousity. "I took a bus to the international airport and asked the service people how I could get to Africa. I even showed them the ID card,'' he said. "But, they refused to let me travel, saying that I could only go there with my parents."

After a few days on streets of the capital, the police sent Wang to the rescue centre. Once the boy revealed his real address, Xu contacted Wang's father, who refused to take his son back, reasoning that he will almost defnitely run away again. "If local government in his hometown can't send someone to collect him, we will have to send him back alone," said Xu.

Basic education is provided for long-term residents and the centre is supplied with books covering the entire nine-year school curriculum. Although there are only about 40students in the class, far fewer than in ordinary primary schools, teaching is not an easy task. Every 60 minute lesson is split into three, 20 minutes allocated for each group, with students taught according to their ability and previous educational background.

"Teaching those students really takes a great deal of patience and advanced skills," said Feng Guixia, a 59- year-old who teaches Chinese and Mathematics. She has been working at the centre, earning 1500 yuan (RM750) a month, since retiring from her job as teacher at a nearby school five years ago. "The bonds that connect the kids are very touching," she said. "Unlike a lot of children nowdays, the kids here always share what they have, whether it's delicious food, new toys or other things. The youngest child is always treated well, just like in a family," she said.

Roughly 90% of the children sent to the centre are eventually reunited with their families, but the others, those that have been abandoned, are destined to live there until they are 18. Li Shengli, 15, who arrived at the centre in 2005, was abandoned on a train. " I was travelling with my parents and fell asleep. When I woke up, they had gone," he said, avoiding eye contact and rubbing his left hand on his clothes. His hand looks unusual because he was born with just vestigial digits and not fully formed fingers. He doesn't know if that is the reason he was abandoned.

Li said he can't remember anything about his birthplace and little about his family, but he knows that he has an older sister and a brother. When asked if he wanted to find his family, he looked  down at the floor and shook his head. He perked up momentarily only when he spoke of things he's seen and done.

"I love the Great Wall. It's so long and so beautiful. We climbed for hours until our legs were tired and we could hardly take another step. We went to the highest part and saw the lovely scenery, colourful trees, blue sky and birds,'' Li smiled.

"I know where Beijing is. It's on the neck of the cockerel (to many people, the depiction of China on the map makes the country look like a crowing cockerel)."

But his interest evaporated when he spoke of life outside the centre, a life with which he's unfamilliar and a frigthening prospect: " I dare not explore the outside world. If I leave here, I will just be homeless again," he said.

My real life Hero

Adapted from The Stars, Sunday 22 April 2012

As kids growign up, many of us had our comic book or Tv show hero. We would be wide-eyed and in awe watching him(or her) in action. More often than not, we'd look up to our heroes and go, “Wow, that's cool!"

Besides Knight Rider and Airwolf, I was always amazed by how MacGyver was able to solve problem and get out of sticky solutions by fashioning a device, gizmo or gadgets with everyday materials at hand. Another amazing actor is Clint Eastwood in the movie Unforgiven- a seasoned cowboy of the Old West with raspy voice, rough skin and a serious demeanour.

Combine those two characters and you get someone who has always been my real-life hero. Someone I look up to. He goes by the name of Sharif, or more affectionately, Uncle Sarip.

I still vividly remember the two of us boiling a bunch of fresh crabs, which he had caught with his bare hands, and devouring them without the fancy-schmancy of plates and cutlery. And there was once when, as I pulled in frustrastion at the loose threads on the strap of my bag, he struck a matchstick and burnt the ends of strap.

Problem solved in mere seconds! Wow, why didn't I think of that? And he did it with a stoic expression, like Eastwood drawing his gun and shooting an empty tin can off a bench without batting an eyelid. It was he who took me on his motorcycle on my first ever motorcycle ride. I clutched his waist tightly as we rode around the neighbourhood with the wind in my face. I was exhilarated! It was such an adventure! As I alighted from the bike, my legs felt slightly weak and wobbly.

Uncle Sarip built houses and chalets with his bare hands, crafted a seagull mobile from wood, and fixed a classic Peugot 504 on his own. These things that he did made me go, "Whoa!" I was impressed with his abilities.

Like a mysterious, wise hero with a cool head, he doesn't talk much. Often, I'd find him sitting quietly at the back porch of my grandparent's kampung house, smoking his cigarettes while sipping hot black coffee. A man of a few words, but when he speaks, they are laden with care, sincerity and a sense of, "Everything's gonna be alright, kid."

I recently got news that Unlce Sarip, who is in his 60s, has been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. My first thought was that it was because of his heavy smoking. But the kid in me is devastated. A little panic creeps into the kid. He 's lost without his hero. Where does he go from here?

Slowly, my heart began to feel heavy and my head throbbed. How could my hero be weak and lying in bed? It doesn't make sense. Is this how it's supposed to end?

My mature, adult head tells me to wake up and not be naiive. But the pint-sized kid who looked up to his uncle in wide-eyed amazement is real. The expericiences that he gave me were real. The "Whoa!" that I had for him was real.

Perhaps he is going to another universe? And I'll eventually meet with him one day? In the mean time, may God bless my uncle - my hero :)

Long long time ago...

Once upon a time, there was an ordinary little girl who was as ordinary as raindrops where you can see and get it everywhere. She was shy, and very shy (redundancy shyness). She was shy to the extend that she had no guts to walk out of the classroom to the school canteen to buy some food during recess. So, she had to starve for the next hours. She was quiet too. She did not talk to her classmates, because(oh) she was extremely quiet. When teacher asked her to answer question, if she could not answer, she would cry because teacher did not let her to sit. Back at home, she was not like this. She was a bad tempered little girl. She angry and upset over something small very easily. She was like, a turtle outside the house and a cat at home. A turtle because turtle does not make any sound, or noise when it walks, or what. A cat because cat is proud and very lady-boss. Just nice like her character. So, what do you think will happen to this little ordinary girl ? So, what is the point of this story ? It's not a story, just an introduction of how the story line will go......to be continued.............

A Christmas Gift

Christmas is a significance of the birth of Jesus Christ. The day when Jesus was born. It celebrated by the christians worldwide. Some who are not christians also would like to celebrate this occasion because it is worth to be rejoiced about. Anyway, here are some sharing that I found on facebook.

Suggestions for Christmas gifts :)

To the enemy : Forgiveness
To your opponent: Tolerence
To your friend: Your heart
To a customer: Service
To all: Charity
To every child: A good example
To yourself: Respect

You can shop this last minute too!

Merry Christmas everyone ! :D

A "sorry" is meant to be forgiven.

I am truly sorry for neglecting this blog for many months. My last post was 3 months ago. Very sorry about that, I will be posting some new stories soon! A whole chunk of stories were waiting for me to be typed in here!

Wait for my good news yah!