Snowdrops for Ike

     One of the changes that took place at home over the 9 months while I was away was the existence of 5 fridge magnets of a banana, mango, grapes, strawberry and papaya. I was delighted when I came home. I played around with the arrangement of those magnets, convinced that I had placed them in the most creative order possible and left it at that.

     Surprisingly, i found them in another order the next morning. Puzzled, I rearranged them according to MY way. And they changed again the following day. I found myself smiling each time I racked my brain to think of how many other different ways 5 fruits can be placed on the fridge. This had gone on for a week plus. To be honest, that’s the only fun thing I had been doing since I was home, refusing to let the other person win. I thought it was my brother because I couldn’t think of any other person as playful. But one day, the magnets moved again during the day when my brother wasn’t home yet. And only my mom had been around at the time. Gosh, it just can’t be her….

    Just a few days ago, my sister said to me, ‘You moved the magnets, didn’t you?‘
‘It had been you all along??‘ I was surprised. Why didn’t I think of that?
‘The magnets had been still until you came home 2 weeks ago. You changed my design so I won’t stop changing yours=P’ We both laughed.

So the magnets have been moving places everyday since then. Mystery’s solved. I wonder if anybody else has noticed this little game we’ve been playing between us. 

     The magnets will keep shifting only for the next 7 weeks. But i love you forever, Er Chie. Thanks for playing with me.

I have a lot to whine about. Someone told me once, ‘Stop moaning! Doesn’t everything always turn out fine for you in the end?’ No, not everything works out. And poor my family members who have to listen to me and my complaints.

Once I told my second sister the normal stuff. ‘Er Chie, other people have this
have that……..why can’t i…..why we never….how come they always… etc ‘. The list goes on.

And what my sister said to me that day finally stopped my whining. Well, maybe reduced half of its normal content and shortened the duration a little bit.

She said, ‘Sure, other people may seem better off, but they don’t have Ike.‘ That line stunned me into silence. Ike.

It may not mean a lot to you, but really, what my sister is saying, is something like: 

They don’t understand what it is like to have a monkey-like dog staring at you and sneeze in your face all the time. The dog that jumps to the no-animals-are-allowed area ie. couch and stands there proudly with ruffled hair as if saying ‘neh neh, come and catch me, u fools!!!’ That dog who drives you crazy by drinking the water from aquarium and even from the three cups of Chinese tea you offer to the Gods and Goddesses.

The dog who makes beautiful paw prints out of mud on the floor in the house that had just been scrubbed clean earlier. The dogs, kept in our carpark, are forbidden (just by mom) to enter the house. But whenever Ike has his chance at
the open door, he never fails to make full use of it. The next thing you’ll see is a grinning dog with his tail high in the air and outstretched paws, galloping away to the kitchen (where he thinks the food is), so free and proud of
himself.

‘IKEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Stop!! i dun wanna friend u one ar’

He comes to a halt and I can almost hear the tyres screeching. Geez, this dog knows how to brake.   

Not forgetting all the times we have left him with some newspapers overnight and you’ll find bits of them everywhere on the floor as if he’s been trying to make a collage the entire night.

There have been countless times in my sleep when I hear a little noise of someone having a war with the blanket. And usually, as I open my eyes, I see that monkey sniffing my face. Since when he got into the house? Has Mama seen him? Did he pee anywhere? Only those thoughts race through my mind as he wags his tail vigorously, happy that I am awake.

My sister continued, ‘Nobody else has Ike. Just us.‘

True. Ike is a VERY naughty dog. I wouldn’t trade him with anything else, though. He’s just hilarious.

So the next time I open my mouth to start whining, I will first think of Ike and smile at his beautiful black eyes,…. and then I’ll continue my complaints about
the world. Haha, not much difference from before. Only that now, I’m starting to count my blessings.

     There’s nothing more that I want than the ability to read and write Chinese. I don’t even speak the language properly! My first effort was during primary 3. They used to have Kelas Tambahan Cina in school for those who were interested to learn. I think it was every Wednesday. The first thing we were asked to do was to write our own Chinese name. I was brimming with pride when the teacher looked over my shoulder and nodded her head in approval at my writing.
The textbook then had the pin yin printed just above the Chinese characters. Yeah, I read fluently but I was actually reading the pin yin than actually recognising the characters. Forgotten why I stopped going to those classes. I think it was because the teacher had said that my voice was as soft as a mosquitoe’s, when I was told to read a passage aloud to the class.

     Next effort was 7 years later. I had a crush on a local HVD actor, Kong Kar Wing (Jiang Jia Rong). I found out that he used to be a singer, so I started to listen to MyFM instead of MixFM. I was hoping to catch some of his songs. And the whole thing about wanting to learn Chinese began again. And I didn’t finish what I started. Left it hanging, but I was glad to have re-discovered the world of Chinese pop music.

     To me, the biggest impact of being Chinese illiterate is that I couldn’t sing Chinese songs. The world of Karaoke is only available to me in English songs, which is a real frustration. I tried memorizing the pin yin but it is hard without knowing the meaning of those words. I’ve managed some, but I can never be sure if I’m singing the right word or not. My brother coped by having a small booklet with most of Jacky Cheung’s songs in pinyin and he’d bring that booklet whenever he goes for a session of Karaoke. And I would flip the pages of the file containing the list of songs without enthusiasm, skipping those in Chinese…and most of the time, looking at titles of old English tunes that I’ve never heard of.

     So, I don’t know Chinese. I can only speak a very basic level of it, but I can’t argue in it, can’t express my emotions in it, nor defend myself in that language. I didn’t have continued efforts in learning. I tried again every other year, joining the Chinese Club in college but every time, i ended up having a nice chat with my ‘tutor’, who is also a good friend.

     My parents are Chinese-educated. But all their children are not. Would you send your kids to a Chinese school then? Or would you just give them tuition just so that they won’t lose out on this important aspect of being a Chinese, as most Chinese-educated people claim?

     Would you speak to your children at home in Mandarin or in your own dialect or in English? What kind of person you want your children to be? Chinese literate and yet fluent in Malay and English? (Not Manglish) Or just as long as they survive in the outside world on their own…surely they can pick up other
languages if they need to, riteeee?

     I guess the answers depend on your own background. What my parents decided for us then, had actually turned my destiny around. I wouldn’t be here today, doing what I do, if it hadn’t been for them and for the reason why they chose not to send us to a Chinese school. By the way, i think Convent Kajang is a GOOD school =P

PS: Just an issue married couples of different backgrounds and upbringing think about, especially when
a baby is arriving soon.

     Sukie was my dog of 2 years. Shihtzu-crossed-Pekingese. A younger ‘brother’ of Ike, she came to us on 18th October 1998, just 2 days after my birthday. We bought Sukie after deciding that Ike seemed too lonely on his own for RM300. But Sukie was priceless.

     My piano teacher who came to our house to teach, used to describe Sukie as a ’snowball of fur’. She was originally pure white with streaks of light brown in the extremities but as time went by, she became slightly yellowish. I think it was the shampoo.

     Sukie was a boy, but somehow we gave ‘her’ a girlish name, wanting to have a name ending with -kie. I’m not sure if this is a gendered condition, but somehow Sukie acted more like a female puppy. We didn’t realise this until many incidents later. Naturally, I was beginning to refer her as a ’she’. I am very convinced to this very day that that’s her real sexuality.

     Anyway, Ike and Sukie roamed the house, the garden, our beds sometimes when my parents were not around. I was having end-term holidays and being their guardian throughout their puppyhood was amazing. They were the best of friends. Ike loved Sukie a lot. Sukie loved everyone a lot. She smiled all the time.

     She was the more outstanding one, getting attention, jumping eagerly all the time to lick our faces. And most of the time, she managed to reach her target - our lips. Naughty Sukie. She could bring me down to the floor by pushing my knee from behind with her paws, and I would fall on my knees, and she’d attack with wet licks. I couldn’t cover my face, because I was always busy defending my hair from Ike’s paws. It was just a funny sight seeing me helplessly sprawled on the floor with 2 small dogs all over me. It felt really good to be able to laugh and scream at the same time. I’ve missed those times.

     Sukie was loving. She loved my teddy and would play hide-and-seek with it. She loved anything red. Yeah, she would jump high to grab a hibiscus flower off my mother’s plant. And she would eat it. A bit scary but a sight of white Sukie with a beautiful and gloriously bright red bunga raya in her mouth should not be missed. 

’szukie-szukie…sayang jie jie ma?’
WARM LICKS and yelps of delight as she playfully attacked me again.

     She loved vegetables. Cod liver oil. The pair of orange-coloured scissors that we used to trim her fur. And all of us simply adored her. Everybody loved Sukie.

     At the end of December that year, a Pomeranian came to us. Well, my mom wanted it so badly just because he looked really cute in the display window in Chow Kit Street. I was having my hands full with 2 demanding puppies. Orkie, the brown, smart-looking Pomeranian didn’t feel welcome. When all of us were trying to focus our attention on the Shihtzus, Sukie generously greeted him and accepted him with an open heart. They became inseparable since then. They became ‘lovers’. You might find it hard to believe, but it’s true.

     Ike felt isolated. He didn’t like the newcomer. Ike was my birthday gift so I took personal care of him. I couldn’t get him to feel better. From then on, the fights between the masculine dogs, Ike and Orkie took place almost every day. And Sukie would be barking in the middle. A brother and a special someone. Who would you choose? Sukie’s love was big enough for everyone. I think she chose both, but simply stayed at Orkie’s side. Well, you would rather spend time
with your sweetheart than your brother, wouldn’t you? And we, spectators, just watched as another fight erupted, as another act of love occurred when Sukie licked Orkie’s face clean.

     I wrote a piece of text in a special book about Sukie 6 years ago. It was the day when Sukie left us forever. 17 September 2000. I still cry whenever I re-read it. The piece of text contains sentences like:

‘Szukie refused to eat anything’
‘She was only 2 years old. Just a baby.’
‘Ike has lost his brother, Orkie has lost his girlfriend, and I have lost a part of  my heart’
‘How can i ever let you know that I love you?’
‘Won’t you come and visit me in my dreams?’

     Everyone was distraught. Sukie was struck by acute kidney failure. She was ill for 3 days. I remember giving her the last bath of her life. Her last bath in my life. Too painful, my sister wouldn’t and couldn’t make her eat the medicine that the vet gave. I did it all and spent as much time as I could talking to Sukie, crying on her yellowish mass of fur.

     This had affected me very much. Sukie was our symbol of love and laughter. She brought sunshine into our lives with her wits and cheerful personality. Sometimes she sulked, but she would let us coax her back into her normal mood. Indirectly, she had helped to strengthen the bond between our family members. We used to just sit around in the living room, doing nothing but being fascinated with those mischievous creatures.

     Nothing can describe the impact on Ike and Orkie. From then on, Orkie has been howling all night like a wolf. Every night, to this day. Every time he feels empty. Every time he’s left alone. And Ike..I don’t even want to say it. But since then, I could see him gradually becoming like Sukie. When there were 3 of them, Sukie was the one who ’scolded’ us for the late dinner, barking away at the door. Sukie was the one who jumped at the door, nuzzling her nose at the tiniest opening of the door, scratching it until the gap became big enough for her to squeeze through. It is all Ike’s work now.

     So many years have passed. And we always think of Sukie now and then.
Just like what i’m doing now. I’ve always thought that the reason why Sukie was taken away from us so much earlier than expected, is because that she is loved so much. Even by God. She had been wonderful, caring, and managed to shower each one of us with love in such a short time.

     Months after Sukie left us, my sister had a dream about Sukie running happily in heaven and playing computer games up there. I snickered at the image of that. I never knew she had updated herself with technology. But I know she will be happy wherever she is, heaven or earth.

I miss you, Szukie-Szukie. Jie jie sayang.

it sounds really nice. 3rd year. i’m going on Phase 2 of the course! i’ve just passed my exams with Satisfactory grade this year. what really struck me is that the same thing happened to me in my first year, and the feeling that overcame me is completely different from last year.

i remember walking home with slumped shoulders after finding out that i’ve only passed with Satisfactory in my first year. i was extremely disappointed with myself as i had been aiming to achieve better than that. i wasn’t happy. i called home without enthusiasm and i cried to myself. and someone told me off, that i should be grateful.

this year, i’m no longer feeling that way. i’m surprised at how i’m beginning to let things go. that i should stop being a perfectionist cos you can’t score every time. realizing something is good enough is totally different from overshooting the target. i didn’t do well enough to be proud of myself this year. but what’s good is that i’m not crying buckets over it. it’s either i’m getting numb to imperfectionism or i’ve learnt my lessons well.

don’t get me wrong. i don’t mean that i will not work towards any aim next academic year. but i will set a more realistic goal and improve myself each time. aiming high or just high enough is still gonna bug me. i guess what’s more important is that i have done my best. and that i should not lose any fighting spirit throughout the journey. and i wonder what’s going to strike me next as a 3rd year medical student. =D