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你还有九岁的记忆吗?

你是常赤脚在草地上跑,还是骑着脚车乱窜?你是坏得每天被罚站,还是乖到老师见你就疼?

我对自己的九岁没什么印象。

但每两年,我都会想起那一个晚上。

我妈那时候驾着一辆很旧的二手车。那时的我总是很嫌弃它,觉得很丢脸,下课的话总是不想让同学看到妈用它来载我。

长大后我再想起它,总是很想见到那蓝色的龟壳。

就在我九岁的一个傍晚,在离我家差不多10公里处,它累垮了。

打开它的铁肚皮,原来是高烧过热,被逼跪下来歇息。

[快点叫穆都来修吧,又要等上两三个小时。] 妈在喃喃自语。

说实话我忘了自己那时有多累,也不知道我是吃了什么药,听到妈这么说,我拔腿就跑。

我妈应该是被我吓坏了,当时她也还年轻,就在后头追赶我。

被追到以后,不用什么爱因斯坦的脑袋,你也猜到我被训得够惨。

终于,漫漫两个小时后,我回到家了。

唉。

汤杯第一单打已经打了一半。

拉锡在主场观众的声援之下,擒下了阿迪。

第一双打的西迪两兄弟,在接下来的第一双打,败给了当时很勇的印尼男双。

接着上场的傅国强,和男双谢顺吉与苏明强,是我的汤杯英雄。

九岁的我不了解运动是什么,也不知道运动精神的可贵。

但我看到的,是他们在处于下风,却没有投械屈服的迹象。

我记得傅国强很多次飞身救球,总是被魏仁芳扣杀,然后在爬起来,接着又跌跌撞撞的保住每一分。

在马哈迪夫人和全国人民的期盼和欢呼中,第二双打的拼劲也是让人难以忘怀。

就这样,马来西亚羽球队三分到手,阔别25年,重夺汤杯。

这是我的九岁。

礼拜天的汤杯决赛,我虽然没办法重温失去了二十二年的感觉,但我却很自然的回想起那年那晚的高昂情绪。

那时候,我国的汤杯队虽然实力不是最强,但是却很平均。

那时候,我不知道很多年以后的我,还是会每天以看球为乐。

更重要的是,那时候,没有社会化媒体,没有人在网上乱弹输了的球员,更没有人把羽球、荣誉、运动精神政治化。

一个热爱自己国家,爱运动的人,希望看到的究竟是怎样的羽坛?什么样的表现?

扪心自问,不是现在的样子。

我们几时会重夺汤杯是个未知数,但一味指责也不会解决青黄不接的现象。

我们几时会看到另一个李宗伟,没有人预测得到,但下一个李宗伟,肯定也需要全民的支持,而不是更多的怀疑与指责。

造就一个世界冠军,不止需要他的天分和努力,如果没有外界的鼓励和支持,林丹也只不过是一个球员。

世界冠军不纯粹是个球员。他有团结我们每个人的力量。

还有,让我们看见希望。

是时候,为我们共同的希望,努力欢呼。

 

 

That tough night continued with me holding on to my dying iPhone and listening to those repeated songs in my iPod. The multiple stops from Ipoh to Taiping North and South made the trip a little rougher. I stopped drinking as the arrogant and rude driver was reluctant to stop for toilet breaks. It took 4 hours to reach “Penang”. Okay, by saying Penang, I mean Butterworth, where I needed to wait for a ferry at 1030pm with a couple of strangers.

Once the wind stopped howling, the rain started. This day couldn’t be better. Shane’s iPhone has a 5% battery life. I made a phone call to someone I used to call for more than 6 months, almost everyday. It lasted for a couple of minutes as another call went in. I made another few calls. 2 failed to get picked up and 1 was engaged. Then it went dead.

I hanged on to my last piece of positivity. It is the faith that was implanted in me after I lived for 6 months in India. I have nothing to be afraid of. If I can survive living in India, enjoying India, then I can dig deep and find the solution for myself no matter how bad the situation is. The ferry was like a plastic bag floating in the wind. The wind was terrorizing my contorted face.

So It reached Port Swettenham. It was 1105pm. I ran almost hysterically towards the exit. There were a few public phones but I really couldn’t figure out a number to call. I just did not feel like asking a favor on such a rainy night. I ran towards the far end and saw 2 taxis were still stopping at the waiting area. The first one got its passengers before I managed to step forward and ask. With no choice but tons of luck, I got the last cab to send me home. The driver is a 70 year-old man.

He ignited the engine rather slowly and drove off from the port. I saw him pushing himself in front just to see clearer road condition, I guess. [God bless.] 5 minutes was what we took before entering the downpour. If I was driving I bet I couldn’t make it home. So I asked Uncle if he is ok to drive or should we just stop. He insisted that he had to send his customer home. It is his responsibility, he said. I was rather sad when he expressed his frustration of being a taxi driver at the port for almost 40 years now. “Useless, earn little” was his words.

When reaching the gate of the place I stay, he couldn’t even find the entrance. He made a few turns and stopped as near as possible to the block I live. I took out 3 10-ringgit notes and passed to him. “Uncle, thanks for sending. You keep the change.” Before getting down, I reminded him to stop the car somewhere if it was too bad a condition to drive. He nodded and returned with a smile.

I stepped into the lift with some mixed emotions. But I was glad. I was home safely and came across strangers who made me think and enrich my experience. I don’t want to live in a cage or a well. At that instance I realized why I love traveling. It is the gift of fate I appreciate the most, which I am able to know someone, exchange thoughts and experience, accepting each others’ differences. Then I found out, my dream of having my own “story exchange” place is really the thing comes from the inside.

One day, I will have my dream come true. One fine day.

[END]

This comes at a time so relevant that I thought it’s a God’s plan. 

I woke up this morning with an intense back pain suffered from 2 falls I have got myself within 1 year. The luxury of immersing myself in the bathtub and falling asleep for a mere 15 minutes in the hot water soothed the discomfort a little. Then it came the lunch that I have gulped down with no sign of missing appetite anymore, good sign I guess? 

The story started with a true last-minute bus ticket purchase that saw me ended up with a melancholic west-coast travel. It was supposed to leave the station at 230pm but to fill up all the empty seats it took off at 4pm. To make it worse the bus was actually heading to Alor Star. So for sure it will be stopping in Butterworth but not the station in Penang island. In between, it had to stop at Gopeng, Ipoh, North and South of Taiping too. A sarcastic voice unavoidably blamed myself for the lack of planning that caused myself so much troubles in the end. 

Before departing from KL, my phone has a 50% battery level and nothing I could do to revive it. When the bus almost started to move, it halted and the door slided open. A lady in her 60’s with thick glasses and gray hair came on board. I observed that she had trouble walking properly on the deck. She stopped beside me and took her seat. 

As usual I made small talks. She told me she was kind of frustrated as her bus from Larkin dropped her in KL and then she had to take this back to Gopeng. The dude who sold her the ticket convinced her that she will be arriving at Gopeng Central. [In my heart I thought “Damn I’m luckier than this Aunty at least I am able to walk and take care of myself if anything happens.] 

Apparently this was the 2nd time she came back to Malaysia after residing in Singapore for more than 50 years. She is going to visit her elder sister in Gopeng. In between chats, she asked me where I have been in KL and I did not hide and tell her that I am looking for a job. Her eyes narrowed and raised the question WHY. If you are going to get a good life you must head to Singapore she said. You’ll be paid handsomely and “fairly” she uttered the last word with a smile on her face. I could see her hands shaking while trying to fix her glasses. 

Then the bus did not stop at Gopeng. I could see worries grow in her. She took out her phone and tried to call her relatives. It did not get through because it is with a SG SIM. “My sis is going to worry about me. She is at Gopeng Central right now.” I did not blink and offer her to use my phone. She showed me the number and I helped her to dial. It went through but because lack of information she was on the phone for more than 10 minutes making about 3 separate phone calls. When she passed me back the phone, she was apologetic and kept mentioning: “I’m sorry your phone battery drained. I pay you back?” I took over the phone and looked at the battery level, it was 18%. And I was 5 hours away from home, I didn’t know that. 

The heartwarming moment came when the bus stopped at the roadside. The driver asked those who are supposed to descend in Gopeng to wait at a bus stop instead. I took over the luggage of aunty and led her down the bus. She was shivering in cold and I was half wet with the drizzles hitting my face. “When you come to Singapore please pay me a visit”, aunty said with a relieved smile on her face this time. “I will, aunty. You wait under the shade, OK?” I pointed her towards the bus stop and she moved slowly there. When I was about to clamber up to the bus, I heard her voice. I turned and she talked with the loudest voice I’ve heard from her. “Just be careful it will be late when you reach Penang.” I waved and smiled.

I did not have her SG number. I don’t know really if my phone could survive when I reach Seberang Prai. But thank God. It was a little something that I have experienced that warmed my heart.

We live day in and day out, working to feed ourselves and families; studying to get good grades and graduate; searching for happiness in a thousand possible ways. Actually happiness can be as simple as a smile on someone’s face. He or she might be someone you may not know prior to that encounter, or might just be with you for less than a couple of minutes in your life. 

I want to say thank you, Aunty. Your smile made my tough day a little lighter. I’m happy to make a small change in your life and be myself again. 

[To be continued]

 

 

现在是晚上十点三十分,爸妈都睡了。

妈睡前我还问了一句,这么早就睡吗?妈说,我们都老了。

十年之前,我上中五的时候,爸妈还是每天载送我和弟弟补习,风雨不改。

十年之后,他们晚上都不出去了,叫他们去旅行,他们都说会很累。

每次回家坐在电脑前,等到爸妈都睡去,听着自己手指敲打键盘的声音,那种心情是特别的平静。

因为这是我的家。家给我的归宿感,让我觉得无论外面是日晒或雨淋,我也不用害怕。

我在大学的五个年头,打电话回家的次数是每两周一次。

最后一次出差到美国,我每隔一天就打一通电话回家保平安,这是我上两次都不曾试过的。

回国后的我,第一次闻到回家有扑鼻而来的香气。我睡得更好,和爸妈有更多的话题,回家乡的次数更加频密。

我想,那是我在凤凰城已经失去了我之前所有依靠之后,才发现一直以来守候我的,是年迈的双亲。

有时睡前躺在床上,翻来覆去都记不起最后一次陪父母看电影是什么时候,最后一次让他们真正感到骄傲又是几时。

我分不清楚这是叫做不孝还是“很忙,没空,改天”的代名词。

最近几次回家,爸都是问我功课怎么了,还能应付功课和工作的压力吗。妈就是肯定叮嘱我不可以忽略睡眠,回到家来要是迟上床肯定挨骂。

我知道爸妈对我好的,我叛逆又粘家的心真的知道。

2010对我来说是重要的一年。我从颠簸流离,到偾事疾俗,然后茅塞顿开。离家,读书,朋友,让我从新找到一个定位。

这不是一篇2010回忆录,因为离新一年还有27天。

我只是想做回我自己,做回那个有话就写出来的我,那个知道自己要什么的我。

度过了一个不是那么平静的一周,回到家,打起字来,感觉和在海边一边吃早餐一边看书一样好。

踏进家门的一刻,我第一时间其实就想拿刚买的二手相机给爸妈看,不料他们都已经把饭菜端上桌了。

这就是我的家,永远不会遗弃我的人住在这里。

现在的我可能成绩不再标青,工作也不见得上了几层楼,但我不会放弃追求我还得不到的,不会害怕知道自己的脆弱,也不会放过任何一个让我身边父母和朋友为我感到幸慰的机会。

记得每个扶过我的人,记得每个严厉骂醒我的人,记得每个在我懊恼的时候让我平静下来的人,记得我很多以前忽略了的人。

当然还有他们,现在已经熟睡的父母。

这照片是我在拿到我相机两个月后拍的,是去年四月。爸妈在和我吃了早餐后,在我到蛮远的Darul Aman Golf Resort来拍照。

或许很多人不知道,我回家的话,要是要带相机出去走走,爸都会跟着去,因为我实在让他太放心不下了。

我和他去过Masjid Negeri前面拍light trail;去过象屿山拍稻田博物馆;去过亚罗士打火车站等火车到站;去过Sala海口拍夕阳下山前渔船出海的一幕。

从美国回来后的一天,我对他说,如果有一天我拍照有了起色,我会用它来帮助那些有需要的人。爸听了后,没有作声,只是缓缓的走开了。

爸怎么想我是知道的,我也更明白他担心我会耽误我的工作和课业。

可能是我真的长大了,还是老了,我不会想再追问爸妈的意见,因为我了解什么可以让他们放心,可以让他们微笑。

时间可以让你衰老,更可以证明一切。

而这一次我除了要证明给父母看,我还要把自己夸下的海口兑现。

They said loneliness brings you to drinking. I enjoyed my best time in this pop culture during the 6 months I had spent in the States. Those were the days. Hitting different sports bar and listening to the people boasting about how good their teams had performed in the NBA or NFL has become my best after-work entertainment. There are times when you wish you are not recognized by people around you, just another A, B or C who shares a chat about how their kids has learned to play the infamous baseball, how the bikers had came back from a road trip so far away through the desert, how macaronis and cheese keep the stomach warm during a winter picnic outing. I wish to be there again. Maybe not being one of them, but just to observe and taste the sweetness, spice and warmth in the ambiance.Sheer joy. If I ever have a chance to do that again……

(Photos taken at the Vintage Bulgarian Restaurant, shooting the polite bar tender who could speak Cantonese and the middle age man who sat there for the afternoon)

Baby Ian likes to frown, his mama told us. Even though Marilyn, a mother of a almost 4-month-old (I think so?) looks tired whenever I bumped into her in the office, corridors, washroom or cafe, she draws a face of pure I- LOVE-YOU-MY-BOY satisfaction when Ian frowns and yawns. I love this boy too. He always looked at me curiously when I throw him my weird and pretend-to-be-funny face.This auntie is kind of goofy, he must have thought that.

A newborn brings hopes. A baby brings smiles. The smiles that we witness from babies is so true and heart-warming. Just because we know it’s the little heart that generates the warm and smile to tell the world, Here I come and be ready for my charm. Ian smiled while he was in his mommy’s arms.

Precious.