Bad Mother

I was in Sabah last weekend. After eating at McDonald's one afternoon, I went to a washstand to wash my hands. I pressed the soap dispenser but nothing came out. A Chinese lady standing next to me said, "Tak ada sabun di dalam."

"Terima kasih," was my reply. It was not the first time I was mistaken for a Bumiputera. Many people think I am a non-Chinese. I am half Chinese, half Dusun.

"Mum, it's a shame that he speaks no English." A voice rang out and I saw a little girl who could not be more than eight beside the lady.

The lady smiled at the child and stroked her head. I was washing my hands without soap, pretending not to understand anything.

"Mum," the girl went on. "Why I know how to speak English, and he don't?"

The mother said, " It's all because he doesn't get a good education."

I was stunned, not expecting the mother to come up with such a prejudiced explanation.

Turning to the mother, I said, " It's not good to judge a book by its cover."

The lady seemed to be taken aback, and she gave me an awkward smile.

I shot her a cold glance and walked away, drying my hands on both sides of my trousers.

I wished I could pull some hair off her head.

Comments

rugs said…
haha! don't stress yourself out over this. her ignorance, her loss, her kid's loss
November 10, 2011 at 2:59 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Creative Writing Workshop

Image
I attended a creative writing workshop in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah last Saturday. It was organized by Jude Day, president of Society of Performing Arts Kota Kinabalu Sabah(SPARKS), The invited speaker was Robert Raymer, a Sarawak-based American writer who is a lecturer of creative writing at Universiti Sarawak Malaysia. He is the author of 'Lovers and Strangers Revisited', 'Tropical Affairs', 'The Boy Who Shot Santa' and 'Spirit of Malaysia'. It only took me ten minutes to get to Wisma Anglican, the workshop venue from my hotel on shanks's pony. I felt honored to have met Mr. Robert Raymer in person.He exuded a quiet air of confidence and patience. I bought a copy of his 'Lovers and Strangers Revisited' and got it autographed by him. I was thrilled and could not help smiling from ear to ear. I picked up a lot of knowledge during the workshop. First, Robert Raymer expounded the essence of creative writing.Next, he showed us how to organiz...
Read more

Article on My Art Lessons

Image
The title is originally 'A Realisation As An Overaged Art Student' but it was changed to something cringeworthy. Many young children between the ages of six to fifteen hunched over the tables in the sitting room, sketching and painting.   At the age of forty-five, I was by far the oldest student, overweight, too, and somewhat shabby looking.   Sitting in an inconspicuous corner, under a freezing air conditioner, I surfed the Inter­net on my ipad to hide my discomfort. One by one, more kids poked their heads around the door, entered the house barefoot and took their seemingly pre-assigned positions in the sitting room. When Vaz, the elegant art teacher in her late fifties arrived, she frowned at where I was sitting. “This is not where you sit,” said the lecturer cum artist, while beckoning me to follow her into a little room beside her office.   She handed me a beginner kit and frowned again when I told her that I had forgotten to bring my coloured penc...
Read more

My Life as a Boarder at St. Patrick's

The first time I came to Kuching was in 1990. Failing to secure a place in government schools after the SPM, I enrolled in the sixth  form  at the now defunct school on Stampin Road, St. Patrick's. It was my first time away from the comfort of home, and I was staying in the school ’s  wooden boarding house, naturally fe eling  emotionally challenged. In the first few months of my stay, I was wrought with unmitigated homesickness, which sapped my confidence, energy, and optimism for life. My weight plunged, and it took a toll on my health. One time, I was so delirious with fever that the world was almost dead to me. My fellow boarders took turns looking after me, bringing me food, sponging my feverish forehead, and washing my sweat-soiled clothes. I finally came to my senses when a boy named Simon  warned me that if I continued letting my emotions control me, I would disappoint my parents. Like me, he had come all the way from Miri to study. He...
Read more