Isaiah 50

One of the things that jumped out at me:

vs 4: The Lord God has given me the tongue of those who are taught, that I may know how to sustain with a word him who is weary. Morning by morning he awakens; he awakens my ear to hear as those who are taught.

vs 5: The Lord God has opened my ear, and I was not rebellious; I turned not backward.

God has given, awakened, opened. I think it is sad and dangerous if we forget where all the good: gifts of wisdom, knowledge & strength of character comes from.

An Old Note

Today, I was reminded of an old note I’ve carefully kept for the past three years.

It’s from my ex-debate president in JC who is sitting in prison right now.

He’s been there for three long years because of his refusal to attend National Service (the story I heard is, he is a pacifist), and this December he’s finally being released. You’ve got to admire his guts: 3 years of prison over 2 years of National Service. I’m really interested to know about his prison experience, I heard he’s having hell.

I was terribly afraid of my debate friends throughout JC, especially my seniors and our undergrad coach. They were some of the most confident, cocky, witty, and intelligent people, and they had the knack of saying things that could never come out of my own mouth. I felt stupid, slow, and most of the time, I was just quiet when I was with them because I felt I couldn’t relate, and I only talked when we were prepping for a case, or doing the dreaded 8-minute machine gun speeches. Sometimes I wonder why I even joined debate.

Debate practice was four hours every Tuesday and Thursday (see, that’s why Singaporean students get so good at what they do, and debate doesn’t even train half as hard as sports. I quit basketball after a week—OK don’t laugh I know I’m deluding myself that I can even play.). My first year was torturous—you don’t compete anymore in your second year, mostly you just train the juniors, sit back and critique them. Every time I had a good excuse to justify being absent, I was relieved and elated. =P Otherwise, my nerves drove me crazy at least twice a week.

I can write fluently, but speaking, and speaking FAST, is a whole different matter. I stuttered and fumbled so much initially, but it was especially terrifying because I trained as the third speaker who is supposed to do rebuttals, which means you have to pick up points on the spot and there is no time whatsoever to write a script, especially for impromptu debates where you get the motion only 20 minutes before the thing. I became good at talking intelligent rubbish. (Now I can’t debate for nuts already. My debate-speak has gone down the drain, all of it, just like my Mandarin. I literally shake when I speak now, no style left whatsoever.)

Anyway, although I suspect my president was just being nice and boosting my morale before a competition, here is what he wrote to me. It meant so, so much:

Jasmine,

I’ve seldom met a debater who’s got such strong views about issues. In fact, you’re the first. I dunno if it’s good for debate, but it is for life. Though I’ve never said it, people on double duties are usually anchors for the team. To date, only you and two others have done it. Your style has improved a great deal, now all I ask is for you to do what you always do.

A.

This is the note I read whenever I feel like a loser with a capital L.  So don’t worry when you feel like a loser, I bet 70% of the time you’re really not.

Over a bowl of Koay Teow Thng

We’re sitting near the window, and I’m watching an overweight lady with glazed eyes smoke a cigarette after her curry mee as we wait for our koay teow.

He is silently contemplating our surroundings, and lost in my own thoughts, it takes me awhile to realize that we’ve been silent too long, all the way in the jam, and then now. Somehow, I don’t know what to say. His tiredness hangs like a cloud over me. So we talk about the crazy jam, food, the place, and he tells me a businessman friend brought me here before to eat the famous noodle soup when I was still a little girl. I don’t remember.

The years have really just flown by. Today, more than ever, he looks tired. : ( He’s not feeling well.

He looks older than I remember, and I can even see a glimpse of my late grandfather appear behind his still sturdy frame that carries him on 5km jogs three times a week. I’ve not known anyone as disciplined, steady and consistent as my dad.

So I start talking about my job, dealing with crafty people (when I’m so stupid), and about doing people favours (somehow these things are more interesting than college). I become so acutely aware than I have so, so much more to learn to survive in the working world. To not get treated like a doormat. He says I need to ‘figure out what I’m worth’ and don’t let people treat me for less. He says I’m too young and too naive and…sigh, my father is always the half-empty glass. : )

And then I asked him when, when is it OK to oblige and do people favours, and when he will not, and why he did this particular person a favour by doing business with him.

Him: It’s a win-win situation, he just lost his job.

Me: But he’s so rich he doesn’t even need to work for the rest of his life.

And then he said something, something I’m still thinking about. He said you don’t know what a father is made of.

And something just welled up deep within me.

Do I know? Hmm, maybe not. If not for my grandfather’s hard earned money he so wisely and generously left for us for our education, how would I even go to Australia? Do I see the feverishness with which my dad attacks his job? Do I understand the urgency that makes him ‘want’, no, not just want, but NEED to do well, to provide for us as a family? Can I really appreciate all of that, the work of a father and mother shaped by a difficult background?

Do I see the sacrifice, or do I see a jaded individual with his life and energy sapped out of him by his job such that he has no time to really get to know me?

Tomorrow are you free, he asks me. I’m not. I’ve got class the whole day, and then I’ve got to go learn choreography from Nai Lin because she’s only free tomorrow–so I’ll have to skip one lecture, and then I’m going to Pasar Malam with Chrystin, her bro, and Cheryl, because Chrystin is really fun and I’ve not been to one since Form 4.

If you’re free I can bring you to go and eat, he says. I realize that if I listen carefully, I can actually hear him whisper, I want to spend time with you.

Hmm. Do I know what a father is made of.