Posted on 31 January 2009 @ 22:21 in Family, Reading
So, it’s the end of another month. There were two things I did this month that I was happy with.
I showed up most days for my daily appointment with God, altho’ there were a few days I didn’t and had to play “catch up”, but I’m pleased to say I’m all caught up now, and ready for the new month with Him. This daily appointment may seem trivial, maybe even funny, to some, but it’s very important to me, because it keeps me grounded amidst all that’s going on around me, especially when I read the news.
Then, I finished reading three half-read books carried over from last year – The Camel Bookmobile (Masha Hamilton), Atonement (Ian McEwan), and A Loyal Character Dancer (Qiu Xiaolong).
Of the three, McEwan’s Atonement was easily the best read, and completely blew me away. The other two were different – non-Western settings for both (Kenya and China), and non-Western writer for A Loyal Character Dancer.
In fact, I enjoyed reading so much this month that I considered bringing a book along on our Chinese New Year visits to our uncles and aunts. Then I realised it wouldn’t be a good idea as the Chinese word for “books” sounds like the Chinese word for “lose”, a taboo word for many Chinese, especially during Chinese New Year.
I was then reminded of an incident many years ago when my third uncle was visiting us and I’d asked him to bring back a book that my cousin his son had wanted to borrow from me. Third uncle refused, and it was later, after he left, that father explained why. Third uncle was on his way to the 4D shop so he definitely didn’t want to be carrying “bad luck” (the book, or “lose”) along with him!
Since father left us four years ago, we have not visited our relatives during Chinese New Year. This year, my brother and I resumed those visits and it was good catching up with them. (My sister, as a married daughter, does not join us, but instead would visit her husband’s family.)
When we were growing up, the family medicine shop was only closed on the first day of Chinese New Year, which meant father had just that one day “annual leave” out of 365 days all year (or 366 during a leap year). As he was the youngest son in his family, it was his duty to visit his older brothers and sisters during Chinese New Year. This meant we spent his one day “annual leave” in the car travelling from one house to another. And since he only had that one free day, we also visited his younger sister. The order of visits would be from the eldest to the youngest. We didn’t mind; the visits meant we would be given ang pows from our uncles and aunties.
Since father left us, we hadn’t done the Chinese New Year visits because my brother wanted to spend as much time with mother as he could, even if it meant not visiting our uncles and aunties. This year, I decided we should; I mean, it’s been four years.
We did the visits over two days, so that we could still spend time with mother. On Chinese New Year’s Eve, we visited father’s second brother in Ampang, and his youngest sister somewhere near Batu Caves.
I took the way I was familiar with, which took us through town and allowed me to point out familiar landmarks from our childhood to my brother. He didn’t remember too many of them – he couldn’t even recognise the stretch of Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman in front of the former Klinik Tan Chee Khoon (now Tunes Hotel), and this was in our very own neighbourhood – and he kept commenting how things have changed.
We had lunch at our second uncle’s house before driving on in the direction of Batu Caves to visit our youngest aunt. As soon as we arrived, we were invited to lunch but declined since we’d already eaten.
After those two visits, we went home to pick up the dinner prepared for mother, and went on to the nursing home for her reunion dinner. Later, we went back to have our own reunion dinner, just the two of us, cuz we’re a small family.
The next day, the first day of Chinese New Year, we went to visit mother over lunch and had our own lunch before driving over to our third aunt’s house in Taman Tun Dr Ismail. We’d actually seen her two evenings before as we’d joined her and her family for an early reunion dinner at a seafood restaurant nearby.
There was just one more uncle to visit, but before that, we made an unscheduled stop at cousin Ronnie’s house in Damansara Jaya. Everyone at third aunt’s house was going over there and we were invited along, so we went, too.
Then, the last house to visit this Chinese New Year – our fourth uncle’s in Damansara Utama – before returning to spend the evening with mother.
At every house, we met up with cousins my brother had not seen for a while. All in, it was a great time. And instead of receiving ang pows, we gave to our various uncles and aunts, as a gesture of our respect for them.
Both my parents had a hand in making sure that my siblings and I did not forget our Chinese roots. Schooling wise, my sister was 100% educated in Chinese, while my brother and I, although we were 100% educated in English, were sent for Chinese classes five days a week. These were not the POL (pupil’s other language) classes taught in school, but regular classes held in a building in the heart of Kuala Lumpur. But this post is not about those Chinese classes (I’ve written about them here), but about another love my mother instilled in me as a kid.
My mother had introduced me to the beauty of china porcelain many years ago. Her favourite, which she passed on to me, is the translucent rice grain against a white background design. She told me that one way to determine if the porcelain was genuine was the light shining through the rice grains when looked at up close. Another way to determine the porcelain’s authenticity was that it should remain cool to the touch even when there’s hot liquid inside.
We had a set of genuine china bowls featuring the translucent rice grain design – our version of “good china” – that mother would use only when she made bird’s nest soup for us. I think the bowls are now with my sister.
Years ago, I came across a teapot in this design and bought one for my own collection. Unfortunately, it was not the real thing as I found out after brewing some tea in it and finding the pot hot in my hands. Still, I was happy to own something that reminded me of mother. Recently, I completed the set when I bought two tea cups in the same design, but again, not the real thing. And unlike mother, who brought out the real thing to use only for special occasions, I use mine whenever I brew some Chinese tea. They are two of my favourite things in the world.
A blogger by the name of Qiuyueguisi visited Shenzhen Zoo recently, and blogged about the poor conditions of the giant panda habitat there, focusing on Yong Ba, its 25-year-old black and white resident.
The blog entry was picked up by ShanghaiDaily.com, and now a team from Wolong has arrived in Shenzhen Zoo to investigate and possibly to bring Yong Ba back to Bifengxia if the allegations are found to be true.
I have a personal interest in Yong Ba – she is my adopted panda, Feng Yi’s maternal grandmother.
Having visited Shi Shi in Guangzhou Zoo, where I saw the excellent care he received, I thought it was the same with all senior pandas relocated to zoos around China. Looks like I was wrong. I was naive to think that zoos in China would be happy to have giant pandas and would therefore treat them well.
Kudos to Qiuyueguisi, the blogger who first broke the news about Yong Ba, to ShanghaiDaily.com for highlighting the story, and to the Wolong team for their quick response to investigate the allegations.
