The Many Faces of Nathan

Nathan Turns 2

Nathan celebrated his 2nd birthday with his Ku Po whose birthday is a day earlier.

Guest of Honour who distributed the Christmas gifts was none other than the birthday boy.

For Po Po.

Sam Q, it's yours!

Aunti Jun, this is for you!

Paul Q, this' yours!

What about me?

All mine!

The Delusion of Little Hong Kong ?

Sandakan is one of the towns I hardly visit probably because I hardly have any project there. So when my lady engineer invited us to attend her pre-wedding banquet in Sandakan, we decided to make a driving tour to Sandakan.

Sandakan has made much progress as far as infrastructure is concerned. With the CM as the state assemblyman of Sungai Sibuga, an area close to Sandakan, it was obvious he has taken great effort in developing this area. In fact, his aim is to make Sandakan the education hub of Sabah.

Sadly, the town which was one time being fondly referred as  "Little Hong Kong" obviously is losing this identity fast because of the tremendous influx of "foreigners" of other ethnicity. When we decided to look for a traditional coffee shop for afternoon tea, we had great difficulty in finding one. We finally found one in a row of old shops situated close to the hill which is the original Sandakan town. As expected, all the shop assistants are non-Chinese including the boss who seems to be of mixed parentage (Not being racist - just making an observation!) All the shops in the area nearer to the seafront are practically run by non-Chinese. You feel like you are in Kelantan or Terengganu when you take a stroll in this city!

Fortunately, the stay was made pleasant when we had the chance to stay in the latest landmark hotel, Four Points by Sheraton Sandakan which indeed is very nice. The view at the 24th floor was fantastic.

We also took time to explore some of the well known tourist spots. The 1st spot we visited is Agnes Keith's old house which is built at a very strategic place on the hill overlooking the Sandakan town. Sabah owes much to Agnes Keith because of the phrase she coined for her book, "Land below the Wind".

Walking toward the Keith's old house

View of Sandakan From Keith's Old House

An old government quarter adjacent to Keith's old house was turned into a restaurant called "English Tea House & Restaurant". The scones served there was not bad!

We also visited the Sandakan War Memorial, a place where many Australians who still faithfully came year in year out to remember their dead heroes. This place should be kept in perpetuity to remind us of the atrocities committed by the Japanese and the evil of war.

On the way back, we also stopped by the roadside to look at a project we once did: The design and supervision of the remedial system for collapsed slopes by the highway. I was glad to see that it is still performing well after almost eight years!

Chapter 2: Bedtime Story - A Story I Never Forget

In the 1950s and 1960s, it was rare for residential homes to be connected to the electricity grid by utility company. My village house, along with the neighbouring homes - despite being just 2Km from the town centre - had no access to electricity. Power was limited to shop-houses in the town, a few government quarters nearby and some institutional buildings.

At night, we relied on kerosene lanterns, kerosene lamps and candles for lighting.

A typical kerosene lantern and a typical kerosene lamp.

On regular weekdays, we had dinner fairly early, usually around 6.00pm to 6.30pm, just before darkness set in. Once it turned dark, my mother would light the kerosene lantern so we could complete our homework and helped with household chores. My father typically returned just after 7.00pm, having already eaten at his workplace. By 7.30pm to 8.00pm at the latest, we would be done with our homework and ready for bed. 

Occasionally, the three older boys - myself included - would pester our mother for a bedtime story. She was a gifted storyteller, and although some stories were repeated, we never tired of listening to her. Of all the stories she told us, one remains itched in my memory - vivid and unforgettable. She said it had been passed down to her by her father, who had come to North Borneo (now called Sabah) as a young working man.

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The Scholar and The Centipede

"A long, long time ago in China, people lived in deep poverty. For a poor boy hoping to escape the cycle of hardship, there was only one path: passing the imperial civil service examination. Those who passed - especially the top scorer or Zhuang Yuan - would be guaranteed a position as a governor or a high-ranking official.

There was once a poor scholar who lived in a remote farming village. He studied diligently for years and eventually decided to travel to the city to sit for the examination. The journey from his village to the examination centre was long and treacherous, winding through jungle trails that were barely visible and seldom used.

To reach the city in time, he had to set out several days in advance. Along the way, he walked for miles, often without seeing any soul. Occasionally, he would rest in rundown hut or shed - simple shelters built long ago by kind-hearted travelers.

One afternoon, while making his way along the trail, he noticed a large centipede trapped beneath a fallen tree branch. It had clearly been struggling for quite some time, trying in vain to free itself. The scholar moved by compassion, gently lifted the branch and released the centipede. But the creature was injured and was unable to crawl. Without hesitation, the scholar took out a small container he was carrying - one with holes poked in for ventilation - and carefully placed the centipede inside. He added a few breadcrumbs for food and decided to care for it until it recovered, planning to set it free once it regained strength.

After about two days, the scholar noticed that the centipede had regained its strength. He decided it was time to set it free. Just as he was about to do so, he suddenly spotted an enormous snake - as thick as a steel bucket, according to my mother - slithering rapidly toward him. 

Panicked, he quickly gathered his belongings, including the container holding the centipede, and ran as fast as he could. The snake was gaining on him, and just as it seemed it would catch up, he spotted a small hut in a distance. He dashed inside and quickly bolted the door behind him. It was the only way to avoid being swallowed whole.

Inside the hut, he waited, hoping the snake would lose interest and slither away. But to his horror, he soon realized the snake wasn't leaving. Instead, it began coiling itself around the hut, cutting off all light and sealing every gap in the wooden walls. Darkness closed in, and the air inside grew stifling. Before long, the scholar was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. He was on the verge of suffocation.

In that desperate moment, he remembered the centipede. With his last ounce of strength, he opened the container and released it in the dark. "I am going to die," he whispered, "but you are small enough, may be you can find a gap and escape. Go!" Then, he collapsed, preparing himself for the end. 

But just as he was slipping into unconsciousness, a faint light began to seep through the cracks in the walls. Cool air returned, and he took a deep, life-saving breath. Then he heard sounds of a violent struggle outside the hut - hissing, thrashing, and scuffling. Eventually, everything fell silent. 

Once he recovered enough strength, he slowly opened the door and stepped outside. What he saw broke his heart.

The giant snake lay dead, and clinging to its throat was the lifeless body of the centipede. In a final act of bravery, the centipede had bitten down on the snake's neck and refused to let go. The snake had rolled and twisted violently in an attempt to shake it off, crushing the centipede in the process. But the centipede never released its grip - and in doing so, saved the scholar's life. 

Overwhelmed with sorrow and gratitude, the scholar gently placed the centipede's body back into the container. He dug a small grave and buried it with care. Before continuing his journey, he knelt and bowed three time to honour the sacrifice of his tiny friend.

The scholar eventually reached the examination centre. He sat for the imperial examination - and passed. In time, he was appointed a government official and served with diligence and integrity, never forgetting the selfless act that had saved his life.

After the story ended, there was a deep, lingering silence among us. We felt a profound sense of loss and awe. Then, as always, came the gentle command that signaled the end of the evening: "That's the end of the story. Time for bed!".

Though simple, the story left a lasting impression. Its lesson - that kindness returned, even at the cost of one's own life, is the highest form of gratitude - is something that has stayed with me ever since.

Post addition (18 May 2020): A video which I received does show that a centipede is able to kill a snake!

Chapter 1: Nicknames

When Serene first suggested the idea of writing about our childhood memories, the first thing that came to mind was the gang of playmates I used to spend time with during the 1950s and 1960s in our village.

Photo with courtesy from prweek.com

In those days, parents loved coming up with all kinds of nicknames for their children. I remember a family in the village whose eldest son was called "Lap Chong" - which mean sausage in the Chinese language. The two youngest boys in the five-sibling household were affectionately known as "Ah Tong" and "Ah Yam", meaning sugar and salt.

In another family, the youngest daughter was nicknamed "Ah Nee" which means Ant. Yet another family gave their three eldest boys the nicknames of "So Chai", "Chu Chai" and "Kel Chai" which translate to crazy kid, little piglet and little puppy. In a different household, the eldest son was called "Dongkui", the name of a Chinese medicinal herb.

Back then, many adults believed that children were susceptible to "disturbance" from ghosts or spirits, which could lead to frequent illness or accidents. One way to ward off these forces, they believe was to give children "non-human" names - those of animals, objects or everyday items - so that spirits wouldn't recognize them as human and would simply pass them by. However, not all children received such nicknames. The healthier ones or those who rarely experienced accidents, were often addressed by their given names or pleasant-sounding nicknames. 

As I grew older, I began to find this belief rather illogical - Could ghosts and spirits really be so foolish as to rely only on hearing and not on sight?

Of course, not all nicknames were born of superstition. Some were given out of affection and love. Occasionally, children were even offered a few options and allowed to choose the one they like best. Others, however were given nicknames purely for fun - or even mockery. Among my primary school classmates, I had friends nicknamed "Suitong" (water container), "Hamchenpiang" (Chinese deep-fried pancake), "Ma Tel" (horse head) and "Benfook" (flying fox). The list goes on.

In my own family, the eldest boy was given a nickname, though it was later changed during his teenage years on the advice of a medicine man as a way to cure his recurring illness. The second was called by his given name. As for me, I was given a nickname that, much later in life, I realized sounded very similar to one of my uncles' nickname - the only difference was in the pitch. My mother told me she gave me that name because I liked the sound of it as a baby. 

On a related note, I'm the only one among six siblings whose birth certificate carries a two-character given name, rather than the more typical three-character name. Although my parents never confirmed it, I always suspected they were expecting a girl for their third child and didn't prepare a boy's name. As a result, my name was something of an afterthought - and I've to live with an alias ever since!

As a teenager, I came to view nicknames - especially those felt dehumanizing - with discomfort. I was determined to shed mine. Eventually, I stopped responding whenever someone used it, which led to a severe confrontation with my mother. After that painful episode, I was no longer called by my nickname. From that point on, I made a vow never to give my own children any nickname that might feel demeaning or objectifying.

Still, the tradition of using affectionate nicknames continues. You'll hear children lovingly called "Boyboy", "TaiTai", "Didi", "Ah Paul, "Ah Sam"  and many more.

Nicknames live on - sometimes whimsical, sometimes loving, sometimes strange - always a reflection of the time, culture and people behind them.

There Must be More than Just Admitting Your Inadequacy

Recently, a friend sent me a "nice" email meant to be inspiring and encouraging. At first glance, it does seem so.

 

JUST TO LET YOU KNOW THAT IT’S CHRISTIAN REASON WEEK AND YOU SHOULD SEND THIS TO ALL BEAUTIFUL CHRISTIAN PEOPLE.

 

When I say that “I am a Christian”, I am not shouting that “I am clean living”.

I am whispering “I am lost, but now I’m found and forgiven”.

When I say “I am a Christian”, I am not trying to be strong.

I am professing that I’m weak and need His strength to carry on.

When I say “I am a Christian”, I am not bragging of success.

I am admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.

When I say “I am a Christian”, I am not claiming to be perfect.

My flaws are far too visible, but God believes I am worth it.

When I say “I am a Christian”, I still feel the sting of pain.

I have my share of heartaches, so I call upon His name.

When I say “I am a Christian”, I am not holier than you.

I’m just a simple sinner who received God’s grace.

But, at deeper contemplation, I find the message provokes introspection.

 

I was reminded of the recent Jubilee Malaysia held on 16 September 2012 when Christians of all denominations gathered at the Sabah Sports Stadium to pray for the nation's well beings. Within the stadium, the mood of comradeship and passion to do something as a community for the nation was really invigorating!

 

Sad to say, a few days later, Daily Express carried an article of a participant of the gathering who complained about the massive traffic jam she encountered immediately after the event due to many drivers all trying to get out of the car park and refusing to give way. Such lack of courtesy and selfishness totally contradicted what the community had pledged just a few minutes ago in the stadium! 

Do we have a lesson to learn ? I do.

Remember, even Melvin Udall played by Jack Nicholson, a misanthropic, obsessive-compulsive man in the movie "As Good as It Gets" can say "You make me want to be a better man!".

Surely, there must be something in Jesus that makes one want to be a better person. Mere words are not enough to change our character if they are not backed up by action.

Life Lessons from a Two-Year-Old

It's been a long time ago since I last spent meaningful time with, lived alongside, or communicated closely with a two-year-old. And now, having the chance to do so again, I have found it to be both refreshing and unexpectedly inspiring.

Each morning or after an afternoon nap, my 2-year-old grandson wakes up in his crib, stands by the rail with his outstretched arms, and calls out, "Carry! Carry!" And of course, he's never disappointed. That's Trust - pure and unwavering.

Sometimes, while watching his favorite TV program, he'll suddenly get up, grasp his toy guitar, hand me the toy tambourine, and declare, "Dancing! Dancing!". With his tiny hands strumming the guitar and his little feet bouncing with joy, he radiates a message that's hard to miss: "Hang Loose and Enjoy Life to the Fullest".

At the playground, he loves pressing his palm into the sand to leave an imprint. Then, with uncontainable joy,  he shouts, "Hand! Hand!". That's a beautiful reminder that Happiness can be Found in the Simplest, Most Unexpected Things.

Sometimes, in the middle of playing with his toys and laughing with delight, he'll suddenly pause and declare "TV! TV!". Once the TV is turned on, he becomes completely absorbed. That's his way of showing that Sometimes, You Need to Pause the Busyness of Life and Focus on What Truly Matters!".

When he finally manages in making a successful deposit in the potty after many attempts, he throws both hands in the air and shouts, "Hooray! Hooray!". That's his way of saying: Celebrate When You've Achieved What You Set Out to Do.

Even now and then, he runs to Grandpa clutching his only Chinese picture book, eagerly urging, "Bubbles! Bubbles!". He wants to turn to the page where a little boy is joyfully chasing the bubbles blown by the mother. That's a gentle reminder of the power of Creating Beautiful Memories that Last a Lifetime!".

Sometimes, when the adults are busy preparing food at the kitchen table and he's too short to see what's going on, he'll call out, "See! See!". He's then picked up and given a view of the action. That's a valuable life lesson: Sometimes, Things won't be Handed to You - You have to Ask, Speak Up and even Insist!.

He also loves drinking from a water bottle, even though it's not typically encouraged for a two-year-old. When he finishes, he eagerly asks "Some More! Some More!". That's his way of saying: Don't Give Up When There Is Still A Chance - Keep Reaching While The Opportunity is There.

When Grandpa held onto the trolley, just in case he needed help, he would push Grandpa's hand away and firmly say, "No! No!". That's a gentle reminder that There Comes a Time When You Have to Learn to Let Go.

Sigh & Moan

AW, one of the greatest entertainers of the music world with his iconic song, Moon River chose to communicate to the world with a single word via twitter on 23 September 2012 "Sigh", 2 days before he died of bladder cancer aged 84.

Interestingly, his ashes after the cremation were sprinkled in an artificial waterway called "Moon River" at his theatre in Branson.

Did  he finally remember what the Psalmist said in Psalm 90:9, "For all our days have dwindled away in your fury; we have finished our years like a sigh."