Saturday, July 31, 2004 @3:29 PM
Time really passes real fast in CO today. Hee hee... guess it's because Si Tu lao shi was in a good mood today, although he was down with flu. -sniff- =) Anyway, he taught us how to play harmonics (fan yin) and he wants to hear it next Saturday. urr... I think it's a little tedious. Using your middle-finger to touch the string and the fourth finger to pluck the string. duh...
Anyway, I have been wanting to type an essay here. A 15-year-old Singaporean, Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen, from Raffles Girls' School, won the top prize top prize of the Commonwealth Essay Competition that drew 5,300 entries from 52 countries. Her short story focuses on the conflict in values between an old woman and her independent-minded daughter. I will type the essay into 3 parts as it is too long. Enjoy.
What the modern woman wants (Part 1)
The old woman sat in the back seat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching tightly the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it might be kidnapped by the wind.
She was not used to such speed. With trembling hands she pulled the seat belt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her calloused fingers. Her daughter had warned her not to dirty it: "Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma."
Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek sliver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely understand. "Finance", "liquidation", "assets", "investments". Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent. The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.
"I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!" Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.
"I can't DEAL with this anymore!" she yelled as she clicked her phone shut and hurled it angrily towards the back seat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She camly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.
"Sorry, Ma," she said, losing the American pretense and switching to Mandarin. "I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of problems." The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view mirror, wondering what she was thinking. Her mother's wrinkled counterance always carried the same cryptic look. The phone began to ring again, an artifically cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence.
"Hello Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine."
Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her how an English name was very important for "networking", Chinese ones being easily forgotten.
"Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take Ancient Relic to the temple for her wierd daily prayer ritual."
Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend. "Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!"
The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hand gripping her plastic bag in defence. The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof. The old woman got out of the back seat and made her unhurried way to the main hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.
"Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make," she said, not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.
The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick. She knelt down solemnly and whispered her now-familiar daily prayer to the gods.
"Thank you, God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome
angmoh (dialect for Caucasian man).
"Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.
"What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault."
The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes.
Finally, with her head bowed in reverence, she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes. She bowed once more.
~End of Part 1~