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 feeling 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 was very independent and an exemplary leader in the boarding house. Realizing that my life had been  spiraling out of control, I decided to change my attitude with the help of this concerned friend.

Never belittling me for being shy and klutzy, Simon taught me how to fold clothes, play guitar, took me to church, introduced me to new people, and got me to play football. After three months, I was no longer as cagey, girlish, and homesick as I had been. I learned how to sit with my legs apart and walk around the boarding house bare-chested, like other boys. Occasionally, I surprised myself by bantering and goofing around with my fellow boarders. We were as close as siblings. Together, we went through the ups and downs of boarder life, lending each other support.

A man played a crucial role in our life at the boarding school. He was the late Brother Albinus, the famous Irish La Salle brother and the director of our school. Every morning, he arrived early in his mini, making sure that we woke up for the morning prayer in the chapel before attending lessons at seven. Simon, blessed with a beautiful voice, had always been given the honor to lead the singing. We took turns doing scripture reading. When it was my turn, I tried to enunciate well, hoping to impress the brother, but he gave all of us the same dose of praise, never singling anyone out. I enjoyed Brother Albinus's sharing of the Holy Scriptures, which not only enlightened my mind but also gave me a good opportunity to learn English. To make sure that everyone understood the Scriptures, he asked each of us questions, and some inattentive boarders would mumble incoherently, their faces beet red with guilt. Simon and sometimes, I, would come to their rescue.

After school, we would take a short nap. Fifteen minutes to two, Brother Albinus would wake us up by striking a bell, reminding us to do revision in the library. As we filed out bleary-eyed from the boarding house, holding books in our hands as we marched in the direction of the library, Brother Albinus, his arms crossed behind him, stood erect on the bridge between two classroom blocks, counting our number with his sharp eyes. If one or two boarders were missing, usually because of reluctance to wake up, Brother Albinus would get Simon and a few senior boys to wake them, and in a short while, they would join us along the corridor with their heads bending low. The same thing repeated itself at night. Anytime, and anywhere at school, the mere sight of the religious brother reminded us of the need to behave and to focus well on our studies.

The other person I remember is the late Mr Ma, the warden of our boarding house. Besides making sure that our basic needs were met, he also constantly reminded us of the importance of adhering to the do’s and don’ts in the boarding house, working with Brother Albinus to establish discipline in the boarding house. Like the brother, his strict face belied his kind heart.

As boarders, we never went hungry. Our cook, Ah Eng, living in a house right across the road from our school, was excellent, and eating was a great joy. After all, how many boarding house cooks would bother to cook wild boar meat and chicken rice for the students? I looked forward to every meal, and every time the cook saw us finishing the food, she smiled with the benignancy of a mother.

Being a boarder helped me to be more responsible too. We did spring cleaning in the boarding house once a month, and everyone had to be involved. Knowing that I loved books, Brother Albinus appointed me as a librarian, entrusting me with the keys to the library and giving me the duty to call the roll during revision time. I read a lot of literary classics in the library, trying to improve my English.

The boarders formed a football team as well, and we were a force to reckon with. I was the worst player, but everyone tolerated me. At the end of each year, all the boarders would organize a concert, and each of us had a role to play. The highlight was a drag show, where all of us dressed as women, sashaying and dancing seductively around on stage, showing off our false breasts, and drawing a lot of laughter.

Sometimes, with approval from the principal and Brother Albinus, we joined day students on outings, camping at Bako National Park, cheering for the Malaysian team when the Women's World Basketball Championship was held in Kuching, and watching traditional shows at the Cultural Village. The activities had opened our eyes and strengthened our ties with one another, and we had become kindred spirits. Yes, we quarreled sometimes, but from some friends, I learned to forgive. Before coming to Kuching, I had been hot-tempered and demanded things to be done my way. Life as a boarder had taught me to give and take.

Two years of fruitful experiences in the boarding school had created a milestone in my life. Although twenty-six years have gone by since I left St. Patrick's, I still miss the precious moments I shared with my boarding mates and how concerned Brother Albinus was towards our well-being. The genuineness of their care and friendship had moulded me into a better person, equipping me with the skills required when I stepped into society.