I've been having strange, recurring dreams as of late. In those dreams I'd usually appear in a location that I'm not supposed to be in, and the people surrounding me are either close friends are complete strangers. But in all of these dreams I seem to be the one who creates trouble.
I say "creates trouble" because I always "accidentally" end up doing something that always gets us into a near-death situation. My dream earlier today, for example, was about getting into this strange scene that I knew I shouldn't be a part of and so I decided to ask around about how to get out of whatever place I was in. I started making friends, and so decided to stay awhile. Next thing you know, some people are hunting me and the people I'm with because I had done something to provoke them (I'm still not sure what exactly it was that I had done, but whatever it was pissed them off.) Me and my comrades hid in so many places and in so many locations around the neighborhood that they wanted to kill me for the trouble I put them in! Eventually we ended up hiding in the first home that we had hidden in---which, amongst all of the places we've hidden in has the least number of hiding spots. We panicked, silently prayed and made sure to breathe as silently as possible as one of us hid inside a closet, the other behind a small cabinet, me I can't remember... and we had almost given up when we realized that they too, had decided to give up looking for us! One of them just announced that there was no one in the house, and so they left and never returned. The relief on our faces! After that life and death situation (the men chasing after us had some guns strapped to them), I doubt that that group of people would ever welcome me again.
After that dream, I wondered to myself whether or not these recurring dreams (in different forms with different characters but with more or less the same story) had any meaning. I strongly believe in God, so at one point I wondered, could this be a message?
I asked my husband about it, but as most people would say, he thought I was going nuts. So case closed, and I guess that I'll just have to wait 'til my next dream arrives.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Got Lost! Hahaha :-)
Just almost got lost today. I fell asleep on the bus en route to my work, and woke up to realize that I was somewhere that was absolutely unfamiliar. Had no choice but to wait for the next bus to arrive (which was maybe 10-20 minutes later) and using the little korean I had to ask people how to get to my destination.
I'm just a bit proud today, knowing that I can actually survive even with the little Korean that I know. :-)
I'm just a bit proud today, knowing that I can actually survive even with the little Korean that I know. :-)
For Promise's Sake
I've been reading this book, entitled "A House for Mr. Biswas." It's about an Indian man who always believed that something better was out there for him, and no matter how many trials he went through that feeling never left him. That he was able to own his own home represents that.
I hope this entry makes sense, because I'm honestly writing this in order to keep a promise to myself. I promised myself to start writing on a daily basis and try to regain whatever writing skill I had before, if there was any. I'd like to practice, because like Mr. Biswas, I used to have a dream that, years after, I'm still dreaming of.
When I was younger, back during my elementary and high school days, I used to write stories. I wrote stories about my friends (using pseudonyms, of course) and also wrote journals, fiction, whatever I could write. I tried joining the Newspaper Club (I can't remember the name right now) back then, but I wasn't accepted. I wasn't good enough, I think and in addition to that I don't think that I really knew anything about newswriting at the time. This holds true up until today, proven by one of my professors in my university before when he told me that my news writing was really bad, and that I had a long way to go before I could write actual news.
So maybe it'll surprise you to know, dear reader, that my first job was actually to write about business news (the company name was Philippine Business News). My job was to investigate, write articles that catered mainly to the OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers). My job was to let them know what exactly they should invest it, why earning money abroad isn't working out for them and what they should be doing with the money instead. For example, instead of just sending the money to your husband, my dear OFW, (who, p.s., might be using it on his mistress) why not demand him to work as well, and make sure that he deposits the amount that you send him into a bank account that you can monitor as well? Yes, it's because "baka masaktan siya, baka isipn niya wala akong tiwala sa kanya," but times are changing. Trust HAS to be an issue.
Arrr, but that was a long time ago. That was probably one of my favorite jobs though. And it's actually because of that job (even though the boss ran away and didn't give me my last paycheck) that until now, I still believe that maybe, in some distant future, my works will be published again. :-)
Thank you for reading, if you did. If I said anything that I shouldn't have said, please let me know. I'll remove that part immediately.
Thank you, and yeeees. I kept my promise.
I hope this entry makes sense, because I'm honestly writing this in order to keep a promise to myself. I promised myself to start writing on a daily basis and try to regain whatever writing skill I had before, if there was any. I'd like to practice, because like Mr. Biswas, I used to have a dream that, years after, I'm still dreaming of.
When I was younger, back during my elementary and high school days, I used to write stories. I wrote stories about my friends (using pseudonyms, of course) and also wrote journals, fiction, whatever I could write. I tried joining the Newspaper Club (I can't remember the name right now) back then, but I wasn't accepted. I wasn't good enough, I think and in addition to that I don't think that I really knew anything about newswriting at the time. This holds true up until today, proven by one of my professors in my university before when he told me that my news writing was really bad, and that I had a long way to go before I could write actual news.
So maybe it'll surprise you to know, dear reader, that my first job was actually to write about business news (the company name was Philippine Business News). My job was to investigate, write articles that catered mainly to the OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers). My job was to let them know what exactly they should invest it, why earning money abroad isn't working out for them and what they should be doing with the money instead. For example, instead of just sending the money to your husband, my dear OFW, (who, p.s., might be using it on his mistress) why not demand him to work as well, and make sure that he deposits the amount that you send him into a bank account that you can monitor as well? Yes, it's because "baka masaktan siya, baka isipn niya wala akong tiwala sa kanya," but times are changing. Trust HAS to be an issue.
Arrr, but that was a long time ago. That was probably one of my favorite jobs though. And it's actually because of that job (even though the boss ran away and didn't give me my last paycheck) that until now, I still believe that maybe, in some distant future, my works will be published again. :-)
Thank you for reading, if you did. If I said anything that I shouldn't have said, please let me know. I'll remove that part immediately.
Thank you, and yeeees. I kept my promise.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
한 국 말 어 렵 슴 니 다
한 국 말 어 렵 슴 니 다 . That's it. I've nothing to say actually, except that learning Korean is freaking hard. (I don't even know if what I just wrote was write. Arrr haha)
I had almost forgotten about the existence of this particular blog until seconds ago, when I decided against typing Korean words in my facebook, giving people the impression that I can actually speak decent Korean. On the contrary, my Korean is practically non-existent and I think that I need to work harder at it if I plan to master it within 6 months.
Crap, this isn't easy. Good luck to me.
If you stay tuned to this site though, I'll most likely update it with some more new stuff I learn along the way. That'd be interesting. :-)
I had almost forgotten about the existence of this particular blog until seconds ago, when I decided against typing Korean words in my facebook, giving people the impression that I can actually speak decent Korean. On the contrary, my Korean is practically non-existent and I think that I need to work harder at it if I plan to master it within 6 months.
Crap, this isn't easy. Good luck to me.
If you stay tuned to this site though, I'll most likely update it with some more new stuff I learn along the way. That'd be interesting. :-)
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Home is where the heart is
It is November 17, and I still haven't found a job.
And strangely, I'm not really in my usual heart-attack, psycho Jacky mode.
The normal Jacky would have made a count-down, 50 days 'til you get home, move your ass! Something like that. I'd have a note glued to the walls of my room, reminding myself that I should have a job by next week or something. This is the way I usually am; this is the Jacky Chua my friends all know of. 别着急，my roommate always tells me. She looks at me and knows I'm always hurrying to do something, always too busy to take a break. My dear friend Michael Uy saw me just recently, Jacky who just fell asleep with her glasses on, and tells Miso, my roommate, "Jacky's tired again."
It's November 17, and I still haven't found a job. Had I known that I would still be in this state months ago in the Philippines then I'd have forced myself to work harder, killing myself in the process.
My dear Buds Michael Uy told me more than a month ago to stop killing myself, and to start enjoying myself. I am, I really am. "Enjoyment" is a matter of perspective. I don't think I've ever fully enjoyed anything without getting anxious as well, but it makes the moment so much more memorable.
But I'm getting tired.
Every day in China is one helluva trip. Don't get me wrong, I love it here. I really do hope I get a job here, fall in love in some exotic town with some super cute Chinese (I love the Chinese look. Don't ask me why; I think that so many of the most gallant-looking men on earth are Chinese) and live happily ever after.
But strangely, the possibility of going home and seeing my family and friends... it's what's making me smile right now.
Franchising 101 for the Money-Maker Wanna-Be
The nontoxic I-Hate-Being-Poor Bug’s on a rampage these days. Many who are tired of their meager salaries have decided to look beyond their desk jobs; they’ve decided to put up their own businesses.
One way: franchising.
Imagine a Chowking branch registered under your name in one of the latest place-to-be malls in Ortigas, or maybe even a Cello’s Doughnut stand in Araneta Coliseum during another Ateneo-La Salle war on the court. Imagine your cash registers singing the Money Song, repeating the greatest words it could ever speak again and again and again: Ka-ching! Ka-ching! Ka-ching!
The possibilities are endless.
Franchising promises to be rewarding, so long as you make sure you franchise with the right group. Franchisers can also make business life for the franchisee much, much easier. Why?
It keeps you from stressing over that business model on how to run your business. Sleep those worries away and let your franchiser fix that for you. It’s part of the franchiser-franchisee deal after all. And let him even sprinkle a few trade secrets while he’s at it.
Because good companies already have a strong marketing and distribution system that has been tried and tested by the franchise owners to ensure faster business growth. You, the franchisee, will not have to worry about making a name because your newly-bought franchise has already made a name for itself long before you decided to join the franchising shenanigan.
You become part of a huge, franchising family. You’re most likely not the first person to decide to buy the company’s name, unless you’re investing in a company that’s still fairly new in the business (a very risky thing to do). Get to know your fellow franchisers. Maybe they’ll give you some pointers that’ll help you bring your business to the next level.
A franchise allows the quicker possibility of expansion and effective technical support.
Earned enough? Expand! If your products become a hit in your side of town, then expect to hear the cash register sing the Money Song again.
And there are more advantages to this, depending on the deal you make with the Big Boss. Like one notorious real estate agent comments, "Right now is the best time in a long time…to set up businesses in the Philippines."
Before finally deciding on joining the franchising industry though, assess yourself: how ready are you to invest in this---or in any particular franchise? Before diving into the land of uncertainty, ask yourself these questions:
Can I afford it?
How much do I have right now? How much will I lose if I get into this? (It’s good to risk, but don’t risk unwisely. Venture in a company that you believe will get you good revenue but without comprising your lifetime savings.)
Are they the real deal?
Looks can be deceiving. Just because a company’s well-known throughout the archipelago doesn’t mean that it’s still earning millions. Before venturing into any company, double-check:
o The sales of goods and services through their franchise
o Profits from royalties based on the franchisee’s sales
o Direct sale of products to the franchisee
o The value and appeal of the franchise company’s product or service
o The company’s sales literature
o The company’s product with the ultimate consumers
o Quality of the product or service;
o Franchise outlet’s perception of the outlet and the products it dispenses
o Product rank with competitive products;
o Truthfulness and reliability of product advertising;
o Product appeal;
o Patent or trade secret protection;
o Propriety position in the market;
o The type of training provided;
o Training curriculum, length of the program and the qualification of the training faculty;
o Provisions for retraining or updating franchisees;
o Special additional cost charged for the training program;
o The type and amount of field support;
o The site selection ad territorial practices;
o The kinds and amounts of advertising support;
o The operating policies and restrictions of the franchise; and
o Personal Earnings Potential.
The franchise contract should have the following:
o Ownership rights
o Your potential customers and your geographical area;
o The franchisor-approved sources and the nature and extent of buying from these companies;
o Rights to either renew or extend the contract beyond the time frame specified in the contract;
o The rights of the franchisor to assign unpaid portions of the initial franchise fee to financial institution or other "holder-due-course";
o The terms and conditions to terminate a contract;
o Description of the exact training and support services that franchisor provides;
o Precise definition of the price, commissions, rental fees, and leases required to own and operate the franchise;
o Exclusive territory awarded to you; and
o State franchise law.
Meet the Parents (oops, Franchiser/s):
o Who is your franchiser? Get to know the people behind your new venture and build a relationship with them. Ask them for advice once in a while and take it into consideration. Being close-minded won’t help your franchise succeed, after all.
o Will they be providing operational support? Will they train you on what to do and how to make sure your endeavor pulls off? Have an idea who you’re dealing with and if they’re credible enough to do business with. You can never be too careful.
o Questions? Just ask. You’re paying a whole lot of money to earn off this franchise, so you’ll need to know everything you think you’ll to know about the business.
Do you know what you’re getting into?
o Consult or hire experts to make sure you don’t get into any legal trouble while on your way to success. Not only that, ask them for their counsels on your undertaking. Remember, to listen is not necessarily to follow. Accept their views, but formulate a decision based on your business instinct.
o Talk to other franchisees and ask about their relationship with your franchisor.
Franchises usually require:
o An immediate payment of "cash down," "initial cash" or "cash required" upon purchase. Simply put, the initial franchise fee;
o A promise to remit a certain percentage (the royalty or commission fee) based on gross sales or number of units sold to the main company;
o Some companies require a payment of separate fees for training, accounting services, advertising, and rental of equipment of facilities; and
o Computation of the true cost of a franchise, i.e. all special fees, royalties, as well as the interest charges on the unpaid balance of the initial franchise fee.
Beware of Illegitimate Franchisers. They usually:
o Promise exorbitant profits with meager investments;
o Demand that you "act immediately" before investigating in order "to get it on the ground floor";
o Fail or are not able to provide vital statistics on franchise sales, profits, locations, etc.;
o Promise "easy sales" of the franchised product or services;
o Fail to identify company officers or principals;
o Promise profits through chain sales or pyramid schemes in which you make your money by selling other franchises or distributorships;
o Use names, which sound like, but which are not connected with, nationally known, reputable business firms
o Promise large income from "work-at-home" or "spare-time" effort.
Finished assessing yourself? Do you have what it takes to be a franchise owner? Then here’s what you have to do:
1. Submit a Letter of Intent to the franchise company. The Letter of Intent must have the following information:
o The name of the interested party;
o Why the party’s interested; and
o Where the party plans to locate the franchised branch. Also indicate the exact address and a map to the area.
1. The franchiser will then
o Do an initial assessment of the proposed site
o Determine the most feasible business model; and
o Ask the franchise applicant to send over the Franchise Qualification Form.
2. The franchise applicant will fill out the Qualification Form and send it back to the Big Boss.
3. The franchisor will then review the Qualification Form and schedule a meeting with the franchise applicant to discuss how the franchise can be acquired.
To know more on how the government can help your franchise boom as soon as possible, visit the Department of Trade and Industry’s webpage at www.dti.gov.ph. Or click on any of the links below (you’ll need to download an Adobe reader for these, though) for answers to some of your other questions:
Question # 1
: I don’t have the budget to start a franchise. Who can I turn to?
Answer: http://www.business.gov.ph/filedirectory/FinancingProgramsforMSMEs2006.pdf
Every business needs a start-up fund in order to get the business running. According to the Department of Trade and Industry, that’s going to be a lot. For more information on what you’ll have to pay, go to http://www.boi.gov.ph/ and look around. That’s the main page of the Philippine Board of Investments.
Question # 2:
I’m not sure what I’m getting into. Are there any programs I can join to teach me more about business?
Answer:
http://www.business.gov.ph/filedirectory/2006ProgramsandServicesforMSMEs.pdf
Question # 3:
LIFO. PO. Customs Union. Cybersquatting??? I need help understanding these words people will be throwing at me if I ever do join the franchising community.
Answer:
http://www.business.gov.ph/filedirectory/2006Glossaryofbusinesstermsnconcepts.pdf
Question # 4:
Okay, I want to franchise. How do I find sources on marketing, getting the right people and everything else I’ll need? Who do I talk to about my dilemma?
Answer:
http://www.business.gov.ph/filedirectory/2006Glossaryofbusinesstermsnconcepts.pdf
Question # 5:
All I need right now is information on where I can buy the equipment to get my business going. Any suggestions?
Answer: http://www.business.gov.ph/filedirectory/Directory_of_Common_Service_Facilities.pdf
You’re good and ready to go. For any other questions you might have about franchising, feel free to contact any of the following groups:
Philippine Franchise Assocation (PFA)
Unit 701, OMM – Citra Bldg., San Miguel Avenue Ortigas Center, Pasig City
Tele-fax. No. (02) 687-0365
Association of Filipino Franchisers, Inc.
Suit 3A, Classica I Condominium
112 H.V. Dela Costa St., Salcedo Village, Makati City
Tel No. 813-5836; Fax No. 892-9535
For any other questions about getting government support for your business, feel free to contact:
Bureau of Small and Medium Enterprise Development (BSMED)
3rd Floor, OPPEN Building
349 Sen. Gil Puyat Ave., Makati City
Tel Nos. 890-4968; 897-7596; 897-1680
E-mail: bsmed@dti.dti.gov.ph
The government is also offering different incentive schemes depending on where your business will be located and where you register it. To know if your company can apply for these incentives, go to http://www.business.gov.ph/Investment_EstablishingBusinesses_Incentives.php.
There. You’re good to go. The only way you’ll ever strike it rich is if you believe you will---and start acting on that belief. Be vigilant throughout your whole undertaking, keep an open mind and continue to learn how to improve your business. You never know. One day you might actually become not just a franchisee but also a franchiser of a new company.
Sources:
DTI’s Starting a Business Franchising Pamphlet
www.dti.gov.ph
‘Til Death Do We All Part
I was a year old when my mother gave birth to my little brother Aldrich. Two weeks later, he passed away.
I can just imagine going back through time and looking at myself, that one-year-old cradled in her father’s arms. Everyone might just be whispering: Poor kid, she just lost a brother. Poor kid, her mother just lost a son. Or even worse: what if someone called me lucky? Lucky that I didn’t feel my mother’s sorrow, lucky I didn’t have to hurt, and all because I didn’t understand the definition of loss, or the reality of losing someone. What was loss to a child who only understood happiness as being able to drink enough milk and get enough sleep everyday?
Does this mean that age has something to do with how one sees death?
I would probably agree with that line of thinking had my Sa-Ku not passed away. My mother’s youngest brother lived in Felda, Bukit Batu[1] and thanks to Tuberculosis, was forced (by the powers that be) to leave this world---which also meant leaving his three kids, his wife, and his parents behind. I saw how my Gua-Ma, his and my mother’s mom, grieved for him once before the last time I saw my Gua-Ma... and it wasn’t an encouraging sight. She missed him terribly, the only son who chose to continue living with her and Gua-Kong, his and my mother’s father.
For four summers now I have been returning to Malaysia to visit my relatives. The first two summers were the only times I actually met my Uncle because we’d stay at my grandparents’ house for at least a week. My Uncle continued living with my grandparents because he felt it his responsibility to take care of the duo after all of his elder siblings had finally said their I Do’s at the altar. When it was his turn to marry, he told his wife-to-be about his dilemma. She consented to continue living with my grandparents and to take care of them while raising their own children.
I absolutely admire my Uncle for his decisions and would have liked to tell him about it, but the act itself would have just ended in vain. To the members of his own family he was a very approachable man; but I couldn’t help but see him differently. There was not enough reason to make me feel at ease with him. The language barrier that stood in between us didn’t help, either. Whenever he flung a Chinese question at me, I would boomerang an English answer back at him. My mother would just quietly observe us and see who would give up first. In the end, it would be a draw: we gave up pretending to understand each other and resorted to just talking to my mother, who understood both languages. Thus my encounters with him were reduced to mere Hi’s and Hello’s (in English, of course), even though I stayed in his house longer than normal visitors usually did.
I discovered his passing away one night after catching my Mom wiping fresh tears off her face. I asked what was wrong, and instead of getting an answer I was reprimanded. Before long I was shooed out of the room. The next day she admitted what had happened: my Sa-Ku, her youngest brother, had just passed away.
Indirectly encountering death for the second time still didn’t move me to tears. I was a teenager by then, but by that time I had a whole new set of ideas floating in my head---Ideas like how I was never going to be able to try to say another incoherent Chinese sentence to my Uncle ever again, or questions on how his children would survive without the support he would still be giving them if he were just alive. I was a young girl brimming with wonder and curiosity about the world, particularly death. Now that I think about it, it is quite unfair… that what I merely see as something I ponder about, other people do experience. I kept my mouth shut about the topic after that.
It is particularly easy to fall into the trap of thinking of such things when you’re warring with boredom. Sometimes, for example, I think about my little brother and wonder if he could have been my personal coach at basketball were he still alive today. When it comes to my Uncle I tend to wonder if I could have been a better niece by actually learning how to speak a language I ought to already know by heart. I’d reflect and would again and again fall back on one conclusion: that life isn’t long enough for anyone. Fate doesn’t wait for you; it ends the moment fate finally aims and swings its scythe at your neck.
Live life to the fullest---someone once told me. I’ve never been good with following advices, but that was one advice I have been trying to follow as much as I can. So for the past few years, instead of getting down on my knees to beg the saints to lengthen my life, I have actually lived it. Why grieve when you’re having so much fun?
***
061306
Almost 2 a.m.
A-Tsin called up just a few minutes ago to tell my mom that Gua-ma had just passed away.
It was the eve of June 12 when my Mom all of a sudden said that Gua-Ma had just gotten out of the hospital. The two of us were in the study room then, she playing a game called Bookworm on her computer while I was typing out a History paper on mine, when her statement suddenly sliced through me the way the blade of an axe could have probably sliced through a log. The hairs on my skin stood on ends, and my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. The background music of my mom’s Bookworm game suddenly blended in with the silence that came right after her statement, the music turning into silence and the silence turning into a sound that felt both empty and yet bloodcurdling.
I hadn’t even known that Gua-Ma was in the hospital before then.
It was during those few seconds of silence that I quickly remembered the last time I saw Gua-Ma. It had been less than a month before, and I can still remember her smiling as if there wasn’t anything in the world that could bother her. “Come back next year?” She had asked in Chinese. I sadly said that I might, but only if I had found a job by then.
But she’s fine now, my mother said a few minutes later. After a while she added, A-Tsin’s taking care of her right now.
I turned my gaze from my task-at-hand that was displayed on the screen to the side of my mother’s head. Her face looked solemn; she seemed focused on her game where one or two blazing books were slowly burning their way down through the piles of paperbacks. She loved the game so much that there were times that I couldn’t tell if she was playing her game out of the sheer fun of it or to shoo off thinking of thoughts such as the one that she had just presented me with. I continued to watch her for a few more seconds, as if waiting for some change to take place in her. Nothing happened, though, and I was left more perplexed than ever. There was nothing for me to do but to return to my work. I couldn’t figure out the expression on her face. She was so hard to decipher.
But there was a fist still clutching at my heart, squeezing it as if testing the veracity as to whether or not it would really explode if held tight enough. I wanted to take out the most personal item I had, my journal, and start writing. But the act of leaving my seat to get my favorite object out of its hiding place and to furiously scribble my thoughts and ideas in it would surely make my mother suspicious and distrustful. It was like taking notes, except with a passion, something my mother would not appreciate. Such an act, or at least that’s how I feel, makes one feel as if the person was backstabbing you and judging you and putting it all down on paper. So I decided that Microsoft Word could substitute first.
While my Mom was telling me that Gua-Ma was finally recovering from her sickness in the comforts of an air-conditioned ward in the hospital, my cousin A-Tsin was at work trying to reach us over the phone, begging God to finally reach us over our phone line here in the Philippines.
I was on the computer, furiously typing ideas away when the phone rang. It was around 1 AM, and a ring broke through the silence of the sleeping rooms and my own tranquility, making me jump in my seat. After a few more disturbing rings and frustrated head scratchings, I finally stood up and walked over to the telephone about twenty steps away from my seat. “Hello?” I greeted, although it might have sounded more like a demand then.
“Hello… Is A-Pun home?”
“A-Pun?” Oh, my Mom. Wait. This voice wasn’t familiar, plus it sounded British-like. “Who’s this?”
“It’s A-Tsin from Malaysia. Will you accept this call, Ma’am?” Oh, a telephone operator.
Oh my God.
A serrated knife was being twisted in my heart. The few seconds of silence that lasted between us felt like a few hours, my heartbeat pounding ten times louder in my head. What the hell was happening? A phone call from Malaysia? “Yes, I will.”
I wanted to gasp for dear life when A-Tsin’s voice finally replaced the phone operator’s. For the first few dragging seconds I felt the need to strangle the information out of my elder female cousin. Tell me! I remember screaming inside. Tell me!
“How’s Gua-Ma?” I said after a few seconds. The hairs on my skin were all frozen stiff, voices stifled from screaming. “Is she okay?”
A few seconds later came A-Tsin’s reply. “She is gone…” She whispered, her voice brave yet shaky. “She is gone just now… I was trying to call you for so long, since 8 PM…”
Have you ever felt the need to cry and scream and kick and punch and beg and fall and do every action that one could relate to escape but of course, could never do in a split second? I was feeling that need at that moment, but could do nothing. A few seconds later I remembered that this was a long distance call. I called for my mother. “Ma!”
My mother was in a condition worse than mine when she got off the phone. She was shaking, false strength showing through her. I had by then taken out my journal and scribbled anything and everything that was running through my head---my regrets, my stress, my sorry’s. She had no journal; she was a fortress who believed that secrets ought to be kept in the head, not in a place where it could be used against you one day. And thus, keeping her secrets within her, she could seek no other refuge but herself at that moment.
For the next few minutes my Mom and I kept silent, struggling against ourselves and against the reality of this event had become such an extreme weight on both our shoulders. We were both seated on the chairs that surrounded our Narra dining table. A few minutes later she looked at me and said, “Go online.”
She wanted me to go to an airline website.
Later that night when my mother had finally decided to return to her room, I stared at the computer screen.
Four out of the four times I visited my relatives in Malaysia, Gua-Ma always received me with open arms. “Come back next year?” She asked.
Come back next year? She asked.
And I gave her a condition: only if I had finally gotten a job by then.
I continued to stare. And without realizing it, tears had begun streaming down the sides of my face.
[1] Felda is a small area in Bukit Batu, a town in the city of Johor in West Malaysia.
I can just imagine going back through time and looking at myself, that one-year-old cradled in her father’s arms. Everyone might just be whispering: Poor kid, she just lost a brother. Poor kid, her mother just lost a son. Or even worse: what if someone called me lucky? Lucky that I didn’t feel my mother’s sorrow, lucky I didn’t have to hurt, and all because I didn’t understand the definition of loss, or the reality of losing someone. What was loss to a child who only understood happiness as being able to drink enough milk and get enough sleep everyday?
Does this mean that age has something to do with how one sees death?
I would probably agree with that line of thinking had my Sa-Ku not passed away. My mother’s youngest brother lived in Felda, Bukit Batu[1] and thanks to Tuberculosis, was forced (by the powers that be) to leave this world---which also meant leaving his three kids, his wife, and his parents behind. I saw how my Gua-Ma, his and my mother’s mom, grieved for him once before the last time I saw my Gua-Ma... and it wasn’t an encouraging sight. She missed him terribly, the only son who chose to continue living with her and Gua-Kong, his and my mother’s father.
For four summers now I have been returning to Malaysia to visit my relatives. The first two summers were the only times I actually met my Uncle because we’d stay at my grandparents’ house for at least a week. My Uncle continued living with my grandparents because he felt it his responsibility to take care of the duo after all of his elder siblings had finally said their I Do’s at the altar. When it was his turn to marry, he told his wife-to-be about his dilemma. She consented to continue living with my grandparents and to take care of them while raising their own children.
I absolutely admire my Uncle for his decisions and would have liked to tell him about it, but the act itself would have just ended in vain. To the members of his own family he was a very approachable man; but I couldn’t help but see him differently. There was not enough reason to make me feel at ease with him. The language barrier that stood in between us didn’t help, either. Whenever he flung a Chinese question at me, I would boomerang an English answer back at him. My mother would just quietly observe us and see who would give up first. In the end, it would be a draw: we gave up pretending to understand each other and resorted to just talking to my mother, who understood both languages. Thus my encounters with him were reduced to mere Hi’s and Hello’s (in English, of course), even though I stayed in his house longer than normal visitors usually did.
I discovered his passing away one night after catching my Mom wiping fresh tears off her face. I asked what was wrong, and instead of getting an answer I was reprimanded. Before long I was shooed out of the room. The next day she admitted what had happened: my Sa-Ku, her youngest brother, had just passed away.
Indirectly encountering death for the second time still didn’t move me to tears. I was a teenager by then, but by that time I had a whole new set of ideas floating in my head---Ideas like how I was never going to be able to try to say another incoherent Chinese sentence to my Uncle ever again, or questions on how his children would survive without the support he would still be giving them if he were just alive. I was a young girl brimming with wonder and curiosity about the world, particularly death. Now that I think about it, it is quite unfair… that what I merely see as something I ponder about, other people do experience. I kept my mouth shut about the topic after that.
It is particularly easy to fall into the trap of thinking of such things when you’re warring with boredom. Sometimes, for example, I think about my little brother and wonder if he could have been my personal coach at basketball were he still alive today. When it comes to my Uncle I tend to wonder if I could have been a better niece by actually learning how to speak a language I ought to already know by heart. I’d reflect and would again and again fall back on one conclusion: that life isn’t long enough for anyone. Fate doesn’t wait for you; it ends the moment fate finally aims and swings its scythe at your neck.
Live life to the fullest---someone once told me. I’ve never been good with following advices, but that was one advice I have been trying to follow as much as I can. So for the past few years, instead of getting down on my knees to beg the saints to lengthen my life, I have actually lived it. Why grieve when you’re having so much fun?
***
061306
Almost 2 a.m.
A-Tsin called up just a few minutes ago to tell my mom that Gua-ma had just passed away.
It was the eve of June 12 when my Mom all of a sudden said that Gua-Ma had just gotten out of the hospital. The two of us were in the study room then, she playing a game called Bookworm on her computer while I was typing out a History paper on mine, when her statement suddenly sliced through me the way the blade of an axe could have probably sliced through a log. The hairs on my skin stood on ends, and my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. The background music of my mom’s Bookworm game suddenly blended in with the silence that came right after her statement, the music turning into silence and the silence turning into a sound that felt both empty and yet bloodcurdling.
I hadn’t even known that Gua-Ma was in the hospital before then.
It was during those few seconds of silence that I quickly remembered the last time I saw Gua-Ma. It had been less than a month before, and I can still remember her smiling as if there wasn’t anything in the world that could bother her. “Come back next year?” She had asked in Chinese. I sadly said that I might, but only if I had found a job by then.
But she’s fine now, my mother said a few minutes later. After a while she added, A-Tsin’s taking care of her right now.
I turned my gaze from my task-at-hand that was displayed on the screen to the side of my mother’s head. Her face looked solemn; she seemed focused on her game where one or two blazing books were slowly burning their way down through the piles of paperbacks. She loved the game so much that there were times that I couldn’t tell if she was playing her game out of the sheer fun of it or to shoo off thinking of thoughts such as the one that she had just presented me with. I continued to watch her for a few more seconds, as if waiting for some change to take place in her. Nothing happened, though, and I was left more perplexed than ever. There was nothing for me to do but to return to my work. I couldn’t figure out the expression on her face. She was so hard to decipher.
But there was a fist still clutching at my heart, squeezing it as if testing the veracity as to whether or not it would really explode if held tight enough. I wanted to take out the most personal item I had, my journal, and start writing. But the act of leaving my seat to get my favorite object out of its hiding place and to furiously scribble my thoughts and ideas in it would surely make my mother suspicious and distrustful. It was like taking notes, except with a passion, something my mother would not appreciate. Such an act, or at least that’s how I feel, makes one feel as if the person was backstabbing you and judging you and putting it all down on paper. So I decided that Microsoft Word could substitute first.
While my Mom was telling me that Gua-Ma was finally recovering from her sickness in the comforts of an air-conditioned ward in the hospital, my cousin A-Tsin was at work trying to reach us over the phone, begging God to finally reach us over our phone line here in the Philippines.
I was on the computer, furiously typing ideas away when the phone rang. It was around 1 AM, and a ring broke through the silence of the sleeping rooms and my own tranquility, making me jump in my seat. After a few more disturbing rings and frustrated head scratchings, I finally stood up and walked over to the telephone about twenty steps away from my seat. “Hello?” I greeted, although it might have sounded more like a demand then.
“Hello… Is A-Pun home?”
“A-Pun?” Oh, my Mom. Wait. This voice wasn’t familiar, plus it sounded British-like. “Who’s this?”
“It’s A-Tsin from Malaysia. Will you accept this call, Ma’am?” Oh, a telephone operator.
Oh my God.
A serrated knife was being twisted in my heart. The few seconds of silence that lasted between us felt like a few hours, my heartbeat pounding ten times louder in my head. What the hell was happening? A phone call from Malaysia? “Yes, I will.”
I wanted to gasp for dear life when A-Tsin’s voice finally replaced the phone operator’s. For the first few dragging seconds I felt the need to strangle the information out of my elder female cousin. Tell me! I remember screaming inside. Tell me!
“How’s Gua-Ma?” I said after a few seconds. The hairs on my skin were all frozen stiff, voices stifled from screaming. “Is she okay?”
A few seconds later came A-Tsin’s reply. “She is gone…” She whispered, her voice brave yet shaky. “She is gone just now… I was trying to call you for so long, since 8 PM…”
Have you ever felt the need to cry and scream and kick and punch and beg and fall and do every action that one could relate to escape but of course, could never do in a split second? I was feeling that need at that moment, but could do nothing. A few seconds later I remembered that this was a long distance call. I called for my mother. “Ma!”
My mother was in a condition worse than mine when she got off the phone. She was shaking, false strength showing through her. I had by then taken out my journal and scribbled anything and everything that was running through my head---my regrets, my stress, my sorry’s. She had no journal; she was a fortress who believed that secrets ought to be kept in the head, not in a place where it could be used against you one day. And thus, keeping her secrets within her, she could seek no other refuge but herself at that moment.
For the next few minutes my Mom and I kept silent, struggling against ourselves and against the reality of this event had become such an extreme weight on both our shoulders. We were both seated on the chairs that surrounded our Narra dining table. A few minutes later she looked at me and said, “Go online.”
She wanted me to go to an airline website.
Later that night when my mother had finally decided to return to her room, I stared at the computer screen.
Four out of the four times I visited my relatives in Malaysia, Gua-Ma always received me with open arms. “Come back next year?” She asked.
Come back next year? She asked.
And I gave her a condition: only if I had finally gotten a job by then.
I continued to stare. And without realizing it, tears had begun streaming down the sides of my face.
[1] Felda is a small area in Bukit Batu, a town in the city of Johor in West Malaysia.
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