Wednesday 21 December 2011
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Tuesday 20 December 2011
Blood
I remember when I was young, in primary school if I recall, I was out having a morning stroll with my grandfather in the wee hours of the morning at six o'clock. He was tall man with a slender built, and gave the prominent eyes that my mother has today. It is also very likely he passed his genes for height to my younger brother and I.
Sadly, I didn't get to know him that well. Part of that reason was the existance of a language barrier. What happened when I was younger was that my parents only taught us English, with minimal efforts to teach us Chinese, be it Mandarin, Cantonese or Hakka. He on the other hand knew Cantonese, Mandarin and Hakka being a first generation tin miner from China.
In the frigid foggy morning in Kampar we would walk side by side, walking with small strides. Mutual understanding estabished that walking is good for the body. Throughout the walk I would give him my boyish smile, acknowledging the fact that he was there by my side as well to break the somewhat awkward silence. We would walk up a hill path for about a 100 metres and he would show me a fresh mountain water source which I would drink shortly. Young and skeptical I placed my little hands in the flowing water source and drank it. Silly as it may sound the water tasted beautiful. It was crystal clear, fresh and tasted like anything but water. It was almost as if it was the nectar of the Gods!
As the bottom of the hill path, he shocked me by telling me this, "Walking is good for your blood circulation." Mentally, my jaw dropped to the Earth. Physically I did not exude such a reaction, instead kept an extremely solemn composure. All the while I hear him conversing in Chinese wih my family members as well as with the neighbours. It was amusing that deep inside he knew some English phrases up his sleeves. I later learned the importance of modesty and being earnest, and that somehow always reminded me of him.
Perhaps blood really is thicker than water; Family members can learn somehting from each other though they are seven decades apart in age.
Sadly, I didn't get to know him that well. Part of that reason was the existance of a language barrier. What happened when I was younger was that my parents only taught us English, with minimal efforts to teach us Chinese, be it Mandarin, Cantonese or Hakka. He on the other hand knew Cantonese, Mandarin and Hakka being a first generation tin miner from China.
In the frigid foggy morning in Kampar we would walk side by side, walking with small strides. Mutual understanding estabished that walking is good for the body. Throughout the walk I would give him my boyish smile, acknowledging the fact that he was there by my side as well to break the somewhat awkward silence. We would walk up a hill path for about a 100 metres and he would show me a fresh mountain water source which I would drink shortly. Young and skeptical I placed my little hands in the flowing water source and drank it. Silly as it may sound the water tasted beautiful. It was crystal clear, fresh and tasted like anything but water. It was almost as if it was the nectar of the Gods!
As the bottom of the hill path, he shocked me by telling me this, "Walking is good for your blood circulation." Mentally, my jaw dropped to the Earth. Physically I did not exude such a reaction, instead kept an extremely solemn composure. All the while I hear him conversing in Chinese wih my family members as well as with the neighbours. It was amusing that deep inside he knew some English phrases up his sleeves. I later learned the importance of modesty and being earnest, and that somehow always reminded me of him.
Perhaps blood really is thicker than water; Family members can learn somehting from each other though they are seven decades apart in age.
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