Yvonne Foong

This is a picture abstracted from my cousin sister’s Facebook. The lady is my mom’s younger sister and the boy is her grandson, my nephew. They live in Bath, UK.

Click on the picture to look closer. Can you see what I see? Something Malaysians are depriving of. I wish to live like them some day. But when time comes, it might take awhile to adjust.Or maybe not since I hardly go out if not for college.

As John said, many Makaysians have went to New Zealand and came back because they couldn’t take a slower lifestyle no matter how old.

Dear readers, I am now writing a weekly column in the Malay Mail. My mom made her first public appearance last week. Read the article here. Happy Mother’s Day, everyone. And don’t forget to read my column every Thursday!

Joyce hinted some, okay, suggested, the methods Ringo and Cindy employed to raise their chances of winning Malaysian DreamGirl.

Two days ago, I typed Joel an email detailing the definition of media conglomerates such as Times Corporation, the head honcho of Fox Entertainment and Harper Collins, just to name a few, and how the companies raise profit by shifting revenues among their interdependent subsidiaries. Balik-balik, profit still masuk the same pocket.

So, you spent RM15k to win Malaysian Dreamgirl? Foolish proletariats! Stuck forever.

Mom and I have been invited to attend Her World Women Gala Dinner at Hilton KL tonight.

I’ve never written much about mom except complaining her unkempt ways of rearing pets, and her habit of crowding up any space left unoccupied at home.

The truth is, I am alive and doing good today all thanks to my mom, who takes care of me without complain.

I will never forget the day she said, “Why study so much? Just relax. I’ll take care of you”.

That is certainly unthinkable, to simply depend on my mom, but the meaning behind her words are priceless.

Mom lacks in formal education and she’s socially reclused. But that also means my mom doesn’t mince her words or say things to make people think better of her. That’s why companies appreciate her as an upfront sales executive. I have watched her working at the hypermarket and I am amazed at the way shoppers willingly approach her to ask what she’s selling, while my mom simply stood around, her arms folded, as if waiting for an employee to turn up for work. While others would have to speak endlessly to convince shoppers, my mom simply reply straight to the point when shoppers ask her what the product is.

When she first started, she came home and told me how much sales she made that day. I thought she was fabricating. Until I saw her in action. The sight of shoppers stopping by for barely ten minutes, leaving with bottles of her product, is simply amazing.

That also means, when you speak with my mom, go straight to the point, especially by phone. Or she will get all confused and pass her distorted version of messages to me.

Mom does not write much and she hardly talks much. So I told Ms. Chong Sheau Ching one day that to understand my mom has been through, you need to hang out with her and try to understand where her character came from, both the good and bad. Sometimes, you only know the life of a person through conversations with them, by listening to their heart.

Check of Jessica’s story. It hints a lot about my mom’s experience and feelings caring for me.

I’ feel horrible. The moment he stood up, he dashed towards our table and placed some items in front of me, before heading to the next. “Maybe someone recognized me from the newspaper and left me a note,” I thought.

It was actually a fancy keychain with a laminated note, English on one side and Bahasa Melayu on the other. “Ditakdirkan saya pekat…” By fate, I am deaf.

.It wasn’t minutes before I realized what happened. “But… what’s this? What organization? What does he need?”

I bought two keychains for ten dollar thinking he must have been real desperate to do such a thing in a shopping mall, Pizza Hut of all places…

But my evening was spoilt. I felt horrible. That man blamed fate for his deafness and used it for profit.

The moment I read his card I had thought he merely introduced himself having noticed my odd way communicating with mom across the tables. So when he came over again, I had a desire to tell him I’m deaf too, if not for the A.B.I.

But I kept quiet. I bought the keychains instead. Because I know I’m different, somehow.

I feel bad because, yes, we’re deaf, but it’s not like that. You know? It was never meant to be like that,

It also made me wonder, have I unknowingly stoop that low? No, I’m not like that!
But what if? What if I accidentally cross the line?

That’s why I must study, learn, help people. Make my life purposeful, to avoid crossing the line.

That’s my principle. Deafness is a condition, just like cataracts and arthritis, a condition. Why should we be any lesser?

I’m still waiting for my trust account to be set up. I often read about delays where individuals do not know whether to blame the lawyer or the bank. Hah, now I’m facing it. This better be minor.

I can’t wait to have the trust up. Then I can stand taller, with dignity. I can then tell people their money is not donated in vain. I also made the trust in such a way that it might outlive me and go on to help other people. *smile* You’ll see.

Dad and I paid Yewin and his dad a visit yesterday.

“Your dad seems more sane than what you told me,� Yewin said.

“That’s because I live with him. Mental illnesses take quite a bit to observe. It’s hard to predict when stressors would occur that make problems obvious.�

“That’s true. Anyway, don’t be too hard on your dad�.

“Yes, doctor. :P�

Isn’t it strange, that those bothered by your shortcomings often care about you the most? I brought dad to visit Dato’ Fong, in hopes that he would be influenced to stay active.

In a dream last night, I was balancing on trimmed narrow bushes, firm enough to walk on. It was in preparation for a future walkathon. The route involved going uphill and crossing gaps. My lack of balance nerves made it impossible. Then, Mom who appeared by my side, held onto my hand as I walked and sped up with ease. Some paces were unsteady, but Mom was there to hold me up. Can I do it alone on the actual day?

I remember years ago when Aunt Ivy passed away, some relatives had disagreements with Mom. At the same time, my own health deteriorated while Mom turned a deaf ear to my pleas for medical attention. (Mom has little faith in science and medicine) So one relative, aware of my frustrations with Mom’s ignorance as to where my health is concerned, called up for idle talks.

When the opportunity arose, she picked on Mom, her voice turned into a whisper, accused Mom’s past behaviors to contain malice.

When Aunt Ivy was alive, I spent more time with her than my own mother. She sometimes brought me along when meeting friends. I was in primary school.

Aunt Ivy often told me how some people, no one in specific, gossip and backbite. Having noticed how Aunt Ivy did not talk much even though her friends insisted for her company, I understood immediately. Her silence represented her disapproval of their backbiting.

So when that relative started whispering and talking behind my mother’s back, the Aunt Ivy in me got into the defensive. Not wanting to provoke the relative, I changed the topic without detracting.

How foolish of her! No matter how bad, she is still my mother. Just because Mom hesitated bringing me to the doctor, it doesn’t change our relationship in the least. The relative is a mother herself. Why didn’t she understand?

——

This Chinese New Year has been slow for us. Many of our relatives were either in hospital, in pain, or recently passed away. One aunt was so sickly, she barely recognized us or spoke any. Her head tilted backwards, face twitched in agony, her mouth hung loose breathing. As I massaged her shoulders and held her hand in prayer, my mind wandered off to memories of her visiting our house every Chinese New Year, slicing fishes and arranging them on a paper-layered rattan top for Yee Sang. The next memory brought me back to her husband’s funeral. She was very much healthy and active still.

This aunt has been staying alone with a live-in helper and caretaker, while her son with his wife and two sons migrated to Dubai. He‘s an Aeroengineer. They come back only twice a year To some, the son’s decision may not be filial. But as I held his mother’s hand, searching my mind for what to pray, I wondered, perhaps she was happy, knowing he’s living well and happy. Only she knows best. What’s important now, is that she has done her part as mother and a wife. When you think of her personal accomplishments, her present circumstances become less depressing.

Every Valentine’s Day, lovers search for ideas to express their hearts out to each other. That would have reserved V Day for the privileged few, capable of thinking and expressing themselves.

But for this aunty, for my mom taking care of me, for my dad and his senility, for Eddie’s sister Grace, true love doesn’t quite exist by modern definition.