MY MOM, AH TOONG 3 + 1 WISDOM

My mom used to smoked when younger, and this picture from the movie kung fu hustle seems to fit the bill.

In the tapestry of life, parents often weave lessons into the fabric of our being, and my mother, affectionately known as Ah Toong, was no exception. While my earlier blog delved into the wisdom I gleaned from my father, this narrative aims to unravel the unique lessons embedded in the story of Ah Toong.

Unlike my father, who imparted knowledge through spoken words, Ah Toong's teachings were subtly interwoven into the tapestry of her actions and behaviors. Educated and well-versed, she embarked on her career as a State Enrolled Nurse, demonstrating resilience and resourcefulness that would later become emblematic of her character.

The first distinctive trait I observed in Ah Toong was her unwavering frugality. Despite a modest income and a pension of RM1,045, she managed to accumulate savings nearing RM100,000. Her secret? A savvy approach to market shopping. Ah Toong, a familiar face in the wet market of Taman SPPK, Pasir Puteh, knew that the best deals often emerged after 9 am. By negotiating skillfully and opting for second-grade fresh produce, she maximized the quality of her meals while minimizing expenses.

Her approach to the market was a microcosm of her life philosophy: negotiate, adapt, and don't settle for less. In the dance of supply and demand, Ah Toong recognized the sweet spot after 10 am when sellers were more inclined to accommodate buyers. It was a lesson not just in grocery shopping but a metaphor for navigating life - knowing when to press on, negotiate, and secure what you need.

Nature, according to Ah Toong, held the key to many of life's challenges. Her belief in the healing properties of natural ingredients, particularly those derived from pigs, manifested in her culinary remedies. When faced with ailments or challenges, she concocted dishes like pig's stomach with pepper soup for gastric issues or stewed pork trotters with mushrooms and black fungus for tired legs. However, she coupled these remedies with a stern reminder that no supplement could substitute for diligent effort and hard work.

The third distinctive trait was Ah Toong's belief in divine intervention during exams. In a unique negotiation with a temple deity, she promised offerings of a free-range chicken, American apples, and Sunkist oranges if I achieved stellar results. The ritual involved ingesting blessed ashes dissolved in water. While the results were not entirely as anticipated, this experience instilled a valuable lesson - caution in committing to rewards before the task is completed.

Ah Toong's adaptability was evident during Chinese New Year of 1978. Faced with conflicting advice on the orientation of the praying altar for welcoming the god of prosperity, she decided not to put all her faith in one belief. Instead, she divided the offerings, facing altars in both north-east and north-west directions. This scenario unfolded as a metaphorical lesson in diversification and avoiding overcommitment to a single approach.

Lastly, Ah Toong's refusal to accept defeat even in the minutiae of life revealed a resilient spirit. The episode during Chinese New Year, where she set up altars facing multiple directions, showcased her determination not to succumb to losses easily.

In conclusion, Ah Toong, my mother, was a living book, each page filled with lessons waiting to be learned and absorbed. Her life, a narrative of frugality, reliance on nature, negotiation with the divine, adaptability, and an unwavering spirit, continues to resonate in my journey, offering wisdom that transcends time. Every parent, a living book, imparts lessons that become the chapters of our own stories. What were the lessons from your mom and dad?

MAN: YOU DIE FIRST

I found this amusing, when men are busy the have no time to die but.....

Started managing two nursing homes in 2000 . I noticed after a few years most if not all the men will be no more, gone, dead.

After 20 years I am very sure my statistic is quite accurate, that most men will die within 3 years of moving into a nursing home.

The funny thing is that we started each home with about 40% men and 60% women but by the third year all the original men were gone. Men generally last no more than three years in a home (that is my personal experience. 

When I shared this information during a talk for senior citizens on planning for retirement and how to select a nursing home, many pf the participants offered their views. One lady said it was due to their ego, because they became helpless at the centre and felt abandon.

Another lady said, "We women are build stronger and better." Most men present at the talk kept quiet because they are not happy with the statistics that don't favour them. 

A gentlemen in his sixties came to me after the sharing and gave a me a very nice phrase which sounded more like a poem on why man die faster in nursing home. He said:

“See girl cannot touch,

can touch cannot do, 

got party cannot go, 

can go cannot dance, 

got money cannot spend, 

got good food cannot eat, 

got wine cannot drink. 

Like that better die”

The saying has a ring of truth in it…women usually last so much longer the longest client we had (some are still alive today) are over 12 years with the 20 year old homes.

And here is my take on why men die faster. I have read a lot on this subject and there are many-many information out there, but I want to narrow it to why elderly man die faster in a nursing home.

I want to touch on what I believe is the true reason why  men die faster and women live longer.

It is the BEING of a man and a woman.

Let's start with the being of a man. Men's being by our culture and societal context are known and defined by what they do, the titles they carry and the positions they held.

At the basic level most men are known by the job they do,  like Ali the mechanic, Ah Kau the farmer and Muthu the labourer. In Malaysia it is important to acknowledge the three races and in our textbook they are always Ali, Ah Kau and Muthu. Everyone of the men are known by their jobs they do they are not known as the father of Nora or Mei Leng or Kamala. Nor are they known as the husband of Azizah or Rose or  Gita.

Those with 'conferred' title like Tun, Tan Sri, Datuk Seri and Datuk will always be known by the title. In fact the title is used so often we sometimes forget what their names are. But the moment this people enter a nursing home, titles and power do not mean a thing. 

The last group are those  with positions like CEO, COO, CFO, Managing Directors and Directors of this and that board. These group will be the hardest hit because of the nature of the work life where they often command the hundreds and the thousands, managing a financial portfolio of millions and billions. For this group, the music will stop one day and when it does, they will find it hard to identify who they are. They will get depressed because when they are in the nursing home, they have no one  to listen to them. They have to people who are lower qualified than them, younger than them and they have not choice but to obey albeit grudgingly. That's when I see depression hits in for a number of them.

I have had in my life, GM's of Multinational Bank, Directors of many boards and people of high achievements living in my centre and they still die and usually not in a very dignified way.

Women's being,  on the other hand are defined differently. By culture, nature and design, women are made differently. Even at the pinnacles of their careers as CEO or carrying a title of Datuk, they at the core are still known as the mother of Nora or Mei Leng or Kamala. At the core the are still known as the wife of Ali or Ah Kau or Muthu. They even sometimes are known as the daughter of Makcik Nik or Aunty Rosy or Aunty Letchumi.

Women are also defined by the seasons of things they do, when like to bake, they are called the baker or the florist or sewing expert.

Women can put one thing down and move on to other roles sometimes 3 to 4 roles change in one day.

The difference I noticed was that men need something to look forward to, a challenge, a goal, women can jump from one need to another without being too attached. Perhaps God has given women one natural achievement that no man can never claimed, that is the ability to give life to another being.

Most women hearing this will laugh and be happy because they live longer and most men will dread that day when their being of a man is no longer what they can do.

My take on this?

Look at it this way. God gave women the ability to achieve the greatest achievement of giving live. But God is kinder to men for He does not want men to suffer the indignant journey of  ageing and bless us with early death.

Peace.

THIS DATO DON’T EAT PORK

Prosperity and fortune are words that hang right at the tips of Chinese lips. My dad is no exception. To the Chinese there are three ways to make the fortune and be prosperous.

The first is the good old fashioned hard work, if you work hard and focus you will make it big. The second is you know somebody who can help you or your business prosper. The last way is the by the power of divine blessing from above and beyond.

I will tell you the story of the fortune by the power from beyond, from the world of spirits.

My dad had a stall selling dim sum outside the now famous Ipoh Aun Kheng Lim Salted Chicken. This story happened in 1977 when I was 13 years old. Aun Kheng Lim in the seventies was a coffee shop. I knew the owner very well. The father of the current owner was a teacher, in fact a brilliant artist and a number of the pictures drawn in Perak Tong or cave and in Sam Poh Tong were drawn by him. I was told that the picture was so huge he has to modify a broom and commercial paint brush to paint it. The mother of the current owner was a lovely lady, my dad asked me to call her Ah Dor, it means aunty or something in the Hainanese language.

The circle and arrow indicates where my dad's stall was.

Aun Kheng Lim at night was the place where people from all walks of life gathered. Contractors, construction workers, taxi drivers, gambling den taikor, gangster and me. On the wall facing the main road were two big school size blackboard. Written on it in old Chinese were riddles and dreams. The people there will read and try to understand and guess the meaning or the image of the meaning. From the image the Chinese will refers to one of the 3 chinese numbers prediction book , one of them is Kuan Yin Book of lucky numbers, I cannot remember the other two. My dad had all three which I threw away in 2019. The book will associate the image to a 3 digit lucky number. For example, the number for python is 606, a cobra is 592 and the number for viper is 381.

Visuals take n from The StarOnline

To make it 4 digit, the pundit has to guess the fourth number which, usually is the first number ahead of the 3 digit.

How do they get the fourth digit? Well there is a simple reference e.g. if the person who guess the number correct is the only son, then the first digit is 1. If the image that represent the 3 digit is feminine like a wok, because women are the one usually using it, then the number is 8. Masculine number is 7.  So, the guessing games goes on this way.

Let me unpack these riddles and dreams for you. Apparently, the world beyond, the spirit world talks to us, sometimes through dreams, sometimes through visions and sometimes through the Chinese ‘fortune lots’ or ‘Kau Chim’ when one goes to ask the spirit personally.

Chien Tung or fortune lot sticks and container. To get the numbers the person performing the rituals will shake it until one number drops and to be repeated 3 times to get all the four digits.

And here begins my story of four friends whose name defines what they do and their roles in this escapade. Taxi Cheong (obvious), Mumbo Seng (the self-appointed Taoist priest), Fresh Fruit Fatt and Pau Lo Kok (my dad Pao is Cantonese for Chinese bun). Most Chinese knew somewhere out there are spirits who lived in rocks, old giant trees or cave.  My dad, Pao Lo Kok and his three friends heard there was a spirit of an old tree about 2 miles off the road to Lawan Kuda, Gopeng, Perak, a place located 13 kilometres from Ipoh.

All these spirits are usually known with the term of reverence ‘Dato’ and the Cantonese pronounce it as ‘LATUK’, besides ‘R’ Chinese cannot pronounce ‘D’. It was known to give 4 digit numbers accurately and many people they heard struck 4 digit numbers many times.

A bit of history about this 'Dato' spirits:
A "datuk" or colloquially known in Cantonese as "Latuk" or "latuk kung" are local deities           protecting a particular area. Just like Taoist gods, eg Guan Yu, the god of war, "datuks" are persons elevated to deity status after their deaths. Most of these "datuk" deities are powerful or respected Malay leaders or rulers with the title of Datuk (or Dato'). This is why "datuk" deities don't accept pork offerings. - information from Steven Lee, an old friend.

The date was set, it was a Friday night in November 1977, they were to meet at Aun Kheng Lim and move out from there to Gopeng. Unfortunately, Fresh Fruit Fatt cannot make it, but still my dad and two others went. The modus operandi was simple, Taxi Cheong drives, Mumbo Seng to perform the ritual, Fresh Fruit Seng to provide offerings and dad provide supper of Pao.

On arrival, they forgot that there was no offerings as it was always the duty of Fresh Fruit Fatt to prepare. But Mumbo Seng said never mind and ask for my dad’s pao or buns as substitute for offerings.  After that my dad and friends returned with an exact 4 digit number. The very next day Saturday, my dad and his friends bet on the 4 digits, buying from Magnum and Bookie (illegal black market 4 digit). The number given was 2417. That evening the number came out as 2416, missing by one digit.

My dad’s friends said that it was strange because no one who ever went lost. So the four of them sat down in Aun Kheng Lim to analyse what went wrong. First to query was Taxi Cheong, “Did you all showered yesterday/” All replied. “YES.” And that is good. Fresh Fruit Fatt said it could not be his fault he was not there. All said “OK”. My dad asked Mumbo Seng, “Did you do the rituals according to the instructions?” (apparently there was an SOP for talking with spirits) Mumbo Seng replied, “Yes, exactly as instructed.” Then they asked my dad, “What Pao did you bring for the supper? (which, they conveniently used for the offering in the absence Ah Fatt’s fruits)” My dad replied, “Char Siew Pao.” (Pork Bun) Then Mumbo Seng exclaimed, “Cannot! This Latuk do not eat pork! It takes only fruits!”

Therefore, for your general knowledge, that there are spirits out there who don’t eat beef, some don’t eat pork but okay with chicken, some are vegetarians and some just like fruits.

HOSPITAL COOKED MY SON

Fatherhood has a penchant to reveal man’s stupidity. I was a proud man until about 20 years ago. During the birth of my son I realised I knew nuts. When my wife was 6 and a half months pregnant, she developed a condition called PIH, Pregnancy Induced Hypertension, I wrote about this in my earlier blog. Dr Sheila from the Klang maternity hospital immediately asked us to go to University Hospital as it was an emergency and a matter of life and death for both mother and child.

I wanted both to be safe, it never occurred to me that I may have to choose the life of either one. But, what if I have to choose. Shall I choose the life of the mother over the child or should I choose the child over the mother. This was a question I was glad I did not have to answer, nor was it asked. At that very moment I was not even thinking.

Reflecting on it now, I asked myself what if I choose the mother over the child. I believe my wife will feel guilty and may not forgive me for the rest of her life. On the flip side, if I had to choose the child over the mother, I will not be able to live with myself. Being a Chinese I wanted both, just like most Chinese who bet the 4D will buy the same number from 3 different companies, Kuda, TOTO and Magnum. There was one more possibility, what if I have no choice and loses both.

But all the above did not happen at that time. My wife and I were too busy being worried.

My wife was so worried that the baby could die as it was as he was more than two months premature.

Myself I was worried because I do not know what I should worry about, maybe because baby was not in my stomach. The only thing I was thinking about was the condition of my wife.

The blessing was when we met the gynecologist who happened to be my brother in law’s ex classmate. His name was Dr Hanif, former doctor with the navy and later moved on to University Hospital. Dr Hanif’s sister was my wife’s friend. When he recognized my wife, he immediately move her to a better bed at a better location for easy monitoring. This was when I don't mind some benefits from connections.

Because my son was premature, he had to exit the sideway via caesarian, a method named after Julius Caesar, you can read it up yourself.

My mom and dad were there too during the day of the surgery.

My son was delivered in the morning of 28 March 1997. He was so small at no more than 1.89 kg and had to be placed in the Pediatric ICU. I can see the veins and arteries under his translucent skin. At the ICU I could see that my son was connected with no less than 10 wires to a few machines. He was on oxygen ventilator too.

The very next day, Dr Hanif met me in the morning of 29 March. He told me my son was too premature, his brain was not fully formed and he cannot breath on his own. So a special injection that will stimulate the brain to function was needed, and it cost RM1200 and I must pay by cash or cheque immediately. Dr Hanif told me that as a friend this is the cost price that was to be paid direct to the pharmaceutical company.

I didn’t think too much and said yes please go ahead with the injection and I wrote the cheque, good thing I had my cheque book that day.

Dr Hanif administer the injection and immediately after I can see my son’s brain moving and heart started to beat on its own.  What a magical drug it was, just RM1200 and it helped my son’s brain to function. I was thinking what if we order 200 plus such injections and gave to our parliamentarians.

On the 3^rd morning at 8 am on 30 March, I went to visit my son in the ICU. Turning into his incubator I saw three ultraviolet lights trained on my son. Dr Hanif said it was normal that prematurely born babies usually develop jaundice. I left at 9 am for work.

At 6pm I went back to the ICU and went to my son’s incubator and saw the three ultraviolet lights still trained brightly at him. I looked at my son and he was all black. I quickly went to see the nurse and asked her to turn down the power. The nurse told me, "Sir that is not your son, your son is out of the ICU and moved to the normal baby care unit, that one ah, is an Indian boy."

It does not matter how many times I told this story; it still brings laughter to the audience and embarrassment to me.

Till this day I still feel stupid to think that the hospital will let my son cooked under the UV lights.

SILENCE-MY TEACHER

Silence, the strength to know there is nothing to control,

Nor were there any control to start with,

Silence is the strength to know that there is more to know,

Silence opens my comprehend what I already understood.

Silence teaches me to listen to nature,

To hear what she wanted to say and where she wanted be,

Silence says I don’t need to do more,

She says that enough is more than enough.

Silence with spouse teaches me agape love,

Silence with my children reveals my treasures on earth,

Silence with friends is my joy beyond words,

Silence with God is peace in the midst of treacherous storm.

Silence in day reveals the worthless work,

Silence in night illuminates the works that’s to be,

Silence in suffering is a needless toil,

For there are ears waiting in silence to hear and share your toils.

Silence in sleep is peace,

Dreams in silence is sacred,

Silence in action is precious,

Silence my silence my living teacher.

Silence of the aged is brushed aside,

Silence of the weak is trampled upon,

Silence of the strong is frowned upon,

Silence oh Silence will not be ignored for long

Silence in death is deafening,

Silence in mourning is heart rendering,

Tearing in silence is heart wrenching,

Silence oh silence is where it will all end.

Silence is not forever,

For triumphal rejoicing is just a promised away,

The creator and creation reunion awaits,

Till then my silence my teacher, till then.