167

Mosquitoes swarmed around as I sat on the swing at Pa's house at 167, watching the sun set and the birds fly home. I breathed in the warm evening air, soaking in the surroundings- the sights, sounds, smells. This is probably my last chance to be at 167.

Since I moved and started a new life in Kuala Lumpur  2 decades ago, I've not had the chance to stay for long at the family home. Now I find myself staying an entire week, despite a tight work schedule and leaving four kids back home in KL in the care of their father. I will not get this chance again, because 167 will be changing hands soon. The family home has been sold. Along with the place we called home for the last 30 over years, we will be handing over a lifetime of memories to the new owner. 

I wonder if he knows what 167 had meant to us. We moved here in the early 1970s, when the place was considered remote and no one wanted the property here. I was about 4, Kor 7 and sis 3. Another sis and little bro weren't even born yet. It was my parent's first own home, and he described the early years as the happiest moments of his life. 

It's easy to see why- he felt his life was complete, he said. With a beautiful wife, 3 equally beautiful kids, his own home, his own car (a Renault), a stable job at BBC, there was nothing else he wanted. He was content to live that peaceful life forever...until Ma passed away 4 years later and things changed forever. Not that my stepmother didn't make the house the home- she did a perfect job. She's just...different from Ma. 

And thus,167 continued evolving through the years.

I remember the Christmas tree Ma planted right smack in the middle of the lawn. We used to jump over it year after year, until it grew too tall for us. Before we realised it, it was a soaring tree. The same applied to the fruit trees in the backyard- we didn't notice them growing, but it wasn't long before the rambutan, soarsop, mango, orange and lime trees were fruiting. 

I remember climbing the rambutan tree to pluck fruits and watching the bats hanging upside-down from the soursop tree. There was a starfruit tree where we used to tie chickens for a few days until it was time for the Big Feast. As they awaited their last days, they helped fertilise the tree with their droppings and acted as alarm clocks in the mornings. What I didn't like was helping in the slaughter. No wonder I'm not a doctor or nurse today - still can't stand the sight of blood. 

Then there was the hedge that I tirelessly trimmed every year. It was a torture and God alone knows what kept me going till I finished the entire hedge that encompassed 167,a  semi-D. Callouses and cuts did nothing to stop me from attacking them with vigour, ensuring they stayed in shape. 

The gates and swing- we scraped and painted them every Chinese New Year. Pa's favourite colour was always khaki green, perhaps for its practicality and ability to cover dirt. Not to mention the windows and grills that we were forced to clean every other week. Disciplinary training, you say? You bet!

I must admit a big part of me died the day they decided to renovate the house in the early 1990s. It was the toughest period of my life, trying to find my own identity and seeking a new life in KL - and coming home to the mess of a home in renovation did nothing to relieve the pain. I cried buckets the day sis called to say they chopped down the Christmas tree. 

167 was never the same again.

Yes, it was more spacious, modern, comfy...but it seemed to have lost something. It took me another 20 years to get used to the modern interiors and cemented lawn. I missed the flowers, the trees, the vegetable plots, the little nooks and corners where we used to play. There was even a spot where Kor used to tell us that if we dug deep enough, we could reach China. And yes, I really believed him then.

We all had mixed feelings when told 167 had been sold. In a way, I'm glad the transaction went though, because Pa had been worrying about it being a white elephant since he bought his new Setia home.But yes, there's the sadness that comes with knowing that yet another (big) chapter of our lives has come to an end- the 167 chapter.

Why did he choose to move out if we were so comfy here for the last almost 4 decades? First there was the new highway that's coming up right in front of the area. There'll be noise, carbon monoxide, heavy traffic. Then there's the fortune teller's prophecy that this area has lost its glory in the 21st century, so youngsters (eg little bro) will never prosper if they persisted in this area. In short, bad fengshui. 

I hear the new owner is a young man on the verge of starting a new life with his fiancee. He doesn't know yet that he picked up a gem of a home. What he gets is all the laughter, tears, hopes, fears, hopes of four generations- a family who pulled through some major thicks and thins for the last 40 years. 

As 167 goes to this lucky man, I wish for him all the joys and wonders we had ever experienced in this home. May he have happy children whose laughter and tears enliven the home, and lots of love from his family and friends who will pass by or stay under the same roof. 

167 Pasir Pelangi will always be a part of us, even though we no longer own the home. It's time to move on, but the memories is something we can never forget. Sayonara...our Home Sweet Home. 

Two keys in a pocket

I woke up feeling blessed today.

It's Father's Day and already my family back home had been abuzz since I dedicated a story to my Pa in last week's Starmag.

(If you missed it, here's the link:
 http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=/2011/6/12/lifefocus/8849264&sec=lifefocus)

How often do you get the chance to tell the world about how your parent's contributions made you who you are today? My father was very cool about it though- he just laughed it off, saying that it is 'just another one of my daughter's stories- and you do know she's tells good stories, don't you?'.

I feel lucky to have come from a complete family, with both parents around, a good relationship with all my siblings and more. The irony is that I didn't always feel this way. I grew up feeling (or rather griping) about how dysfunctional our family is, with a stepmother who doesn't think and speak the same language, a father who keeps siding her, a grandmother who fanned the flames while she lived.

The worse was when the family almost fell apart because of my marriage to a non-Chinese. My father had said then he regretted marrying my stepmom because 'two keys in a pocket tend to clang', meaning my natural mom would probably have been more understanding if she was still around.

Today, I thank God they had not fallen apart because of me, because my stepmom takes care of my father really well, far better than we will ever do (even far better than the way we care for our husbands).

Maybe you see the world differently after the age of 40. Maybe it's being a mum. Maybe it's because I've seen much worse scenarios of broken families in my line of work that I now know our family is more 'normal' than I used to think.

Then there's the editors who agreed to run my story, the PR fellas who didn't disagree when I proposed my story, the photographer who saw to things even though I wasn't present to give directions on what kind of shot I wanted for my story. In a nutshell, it all turned out beautifully, as it should.

Makes me wonder how many of our kids will be paying us tribute 20 years down the line. I'm not sure if we're getting it right with the kiddoes now- but I do hope that simply trying is good enough, as opposed to sitting around and hoping that it will happen automatically. Society today is unlike that before- and I'm not confident they will turn out right without proper guidance, the way we did in the past.

My Pa said he really didn't do much...in a way it's true. All he did was to be there when we needed him. That alone was good enough for us back then. Would the same apply for our kids today? I really don't know.

All I know is that life is good, alhumdulilah. There's more to look forward to. Can't wait!

Could this be the Law Of Attraction?

If you were born in the 70s, you would surely know the popular movie 'The Sinking Of Japan' where a huge tsunami came and wiped the country off the map. Ultraman cartoons are always portraying monsters who came and ripped off nuclear power stations, sending people running helter-skelter.

That's not all; the Japanese government are world leaders in disaster management: every year, they send experts to tsunami and earthquake prone areas to provide training to children and populations on what to do in the event of a natural disaster. Huge amounts of government money are spent in these goodwill missions to share their knowledge and experience, as a country highly vulnerable to natural disasters themself.

Yet it seems like nothing could have prepared them for what is happening at this moment in time in Japan. My heart goes out to the people of Japan, who after being hit by earthquakes, tsunamis and nuclear power plant disasters, are now faced with snow and biting-cold weather. I pray it will be over soon, in one way or another. This is surely the greatest test of human resilence in the history of mankind. Makes me wonder if any other country would have managed the situation as well if it had happened anywhere else on this planet.

What hits me as the biggest irony is that this is what every Japanese had been trained for, all their lives. They are primed for natural disaster. They expect it. They knew it was coming.

With an entire population expecting this to happen, would it have garnered enough momentum to get the Universe to set it in motion? It really didn't matter whether your thoughts are positive or negative- but once you have it in mind, you have given it the possibility (however remote) of coming true somehow. With monthly tsunami drills, nuclear power disasters-inspired cartoons, even a blockbuster movie about the country being wiped off the map and sinking under the sea, it's almost as though they had unconsciously 'thought' it into reality.

It's scary to know powerful the human mind really is. I remember going to Pangkor Laut Resort last year for a 3-day trip with my battery-loaded camera. On the luxurious yatch enroute the island, my sponsor asked if I brought my camera charger, and I'd confidently replied that my battery could safely last for the next 3 days.

"Are you sure?" she'd asked skeptically. Her concern drove into my bones, as a tiny voice whispered to me that perhaps she was right. My battery usually lasts for 3 days, no doubt about it, I nervously said. But deep down, I had started to share her fear.

True enough, my camera charger died after the second night, something which I'd not expected. I came up with various excuses when I had to switch from my SLR  to a compact on the last day. The experience left me shaken- when two strong-minded people thought of something (the possibility of my battery running flat), it had actually happened.

Chance, you say? Possibly. But what if it was not? Could we have possibly 'attracted' the battery to die on me?

We'll never know...but this I know for certain - one should never underestimate the power of Thought. This is what they call Personal Mastery: controlling the way you think because your thoughts define your action,and your action determines your destiny.

What are you thinking about today?

Have you ever regretted being a freelancer?

Li Shian, a fellow journalist from a malay publication, threw this question at me today. Strangely enough, I never stopped to think about it that way. Not in terms of regrets anyway, since every path we take in life will have its ups and downs.

But yes, being a freelancer- what do I miss about working full-time? How about these:

1) Job perks. No one will offer you promotions, medical benefits, annual leave, annual bonus, company trips. You've got to create your own job perks to stay motivated.

2) Colleagues. Freelancing is a very lonely world; you don't get people coming over to say hello, invite you for lunch, sharing the latest gossip or birthday cake. If you're getting too much of these at your workplace, you'll probably say good riddance to all these- but try working solo for two decades and you'll see what I mean. Freelancers seldom get a chance to form deep friendships the way full-time staff do over lunch or tea.

3) Nice freebies. You know what I mean. We all know suppliers, clients and business associates send gifts to whoever is holding certain portfolios as goodwill gestures. Quit your job today and all your freebies will be going to the person taking over your position. Freelancers never even get a sniff of these....because you are not representing any important organisation and are not in a decision-making position. In fact, when you attend meetings, don't be surprised to overhear not-so-subdued remarks of : Who's that again? Oh, just a freelancer/supplier.

4) Mental stimulation/interaction. Not from colleagues, but the rest of the industry. People don't forward you the latest happenings in the industry to keep you updated or invite you along for industry-related events. You'd need to be on the ball constantly so as not to miss out on what's new. Even then, you'll never quite catch up, unless you are an excellent networker.

5) Team assistance. Computer trouble? Got a splitting headache? Need input on a project you're working on? Hard luck- it's all DIY.

6) Recognition and feedback. The only way you can now whether your work is any good is when your clients keep coming back or you start getting referrals. I've been lucky on this though, as I happen to work with some really caring editors and clients (you know who you are if you're reading this!), who take the trouble to tell me how an article can be improved and when they like a certain piece.

So have I ever considered working for others? Yes, of course, for all the reasons above. But then again, I've come to realise that I'd be giving up more than I bargained for if I ever trade my freelance job for full-time employment. I don't want to give up:

- Long chats and loud laughter over the phone
- Gardening
- Morning walks
- The flexi-hours
- Working without having someone breathing down my neck

Am I lucky to be a successful freelancer? Perhaps...but luck is only one percent of the equation. To make freelancing to work, you must really want it to. Are you prepared to give up those perks I mentioned (and those I didn't, like getting to wear pretty clothes to work, shopping during long Friday lunches, carrying impressive positons on your call-card)?

It's not always about the money. It's the quality of life you want. The more you want it to work, the higher the likelihood it will. Sure enough I've got my fair share of regrets, but it'll take more than a super-duper salary to make me a full-timer.

Tara Barker

It was 2000, the year when Malaysian Women's Weekly (MWW) was newly introduced to the stores. It was one of the many women's magazines competing for readership, alongside a whole host of magazines on beauty, health, travel, cars, gadgets, you-name-it.

I was thirty, have just had my third baby and was in a state of depression, not post-natal but more because of the financial state we were in. Three children, no job, nothing to look forward to.

I knew things were bad because I had started to recognise each of my neighbours' car sounds. At 8am, one neighbour will be starting her car to go to work. This lady came back at 6pm daily, while her husband leaves for the office a little later and came home close to midnight.

Another car sound meant that another neighbour was getting ready to send his wife to work. This guy had opted for early retirement at the age of 40 after a bad accident, hence he gets to enjoy insurance benefits even without having to work. His wife worked at a supermarket just down the hill where we stayed.

And so on it went. All I could think of in those days was 'everyone is doing something and going somewhere- except me'. I felt trapped and helpless.

That was when I decided to learn how to use the computer. The Word document was a daily experiment, as I struggled to type as fast as I thought. More so when I had to juggle computer 'lessons' with caring for 3 little kids in the background.

I surfed the internet for ways on how to make a living with freelance writing. The top 2 tips were almost always the same- study the publication and get in touch with the editor.

When I read MWW for the first time,  deep down I knew I wanted to write for them. I emailed several story ideas to the magazine editor, as recommended by online sources. But no reply came. It was a disappointing start.

When I bought my next issue of MWW, I noticed an ad inside about some workshop that the magazine was organising. It struck me that this would be the perfect chance for me to meet the editor-in-chief, Tara Barker! My application form and payment was sent within 24 hours.

It was an excellent workshop, by any standards, yet all I did was try to ascertain which one was Tara. And I was shaking, partly due to the cold air-conditioning system, partly because I was scared out of my wits! I've never met an editor before and I had no idea what to say!

During a tea-break, I nervously asked a girl holding a camera (Elizabeth Soong) whether she worked for MWW and which one was Tara. She kindly pointed out a Caucasian lady who was talking to someone. When I told her I wanted to write for MWW, Elizabeth led me over to Tara and introduced me to her.

Very nervously I stammered, "I'm a freelance writer and I love MWW. I'd.. l'd love to write for you."

Tara gazed at me for a moment (probably because I looked ashen!) before asking if I had experience. I told her I was new to writing but I had many story ideas and was a fast-learner. When I mentioned that my emails to her had gone unnoticed, she was very apologetic. Handing me her call card, she told me to write to her using her direct email, promising to get back to me with a reply.

To cut a long story short, Tara replied my emails following that incident. They didn't take many of the story ideas I pitched to them, but she started giving me stories instead.

The assignments grew and grew, until 2003 when Tara finally told me she was tired of micro-managing my ad-hoc invoices.

"How about becoming our contract writer? This way, you'd get to take care of your babies and yet have a regular income writing for us," she said on the phone.

She probably did not realise the impact those words had on me. They meant a sense of security, a promise of monthly revenue without having to sacrifice my maternal responsibilities.

It was the perfect solution for any work-from-home mom, one that was not easily available in Malaysia where employers still see the need to have staff in the office 5 days a week to ensure work gets done. Tara had trusted me like no other, giving me an opportunity to turn my life around.

Fast forward to 2011.

I terminated my retainer contract with MWW just a year ago when I felt I should perhaps give way to someone who needed retainer work more than I did. Ten years of writing had helped in establishing myself as a freelance writer and I want other freelancers to enjoy the privilege I once did.

But I'll never forget the first time I met Tara and the way she changed my life. Truth be told, I never knew her personally because we met less than 5 times over the last decade; yet she always has a kind word for me when we met.

I hear she's a strict boss who is a stickler for discipline and deadlines, so in a way, I'm glad I'm not a full-time staff. But that's what made it all the more meaningful. She never knew me, but she gave me the opportunity of a lifetime. How many people would do that for a total stranger?

If you're a MWW fan/reader, you may know that MWW's slogan is 'For women who want it all'. What you may not know is that Tara, as the editor-in-chief, embraces this philosophy by encouraging women to strive for their full potential. That's why MWW often features inspirational stories of women- so that readers will also be inspired to do things they never knew they could.

Are you another Tara Barker? If you are someone in authority, remember you have the power to make a difference in someone else's life. Like Tara, you could have saved a marriage and a family from falling apart. You could have given another woman the much-needed self-confidence to move into uncharted waters.

For all the Tara's out there, I salute you. For the rest of us, we'll never know if something we did had made us a Tara of sorts. Perhaps there's a hidden Tara in each of us, waiting to be let out.

Happy New Year and may 2011 be a glorious year ahead!

The starfish on the beach

Ever read about the guy who walks on the beach picking up starfish that were washed up to shore? Every time he finds one, he picks it up and throws it back into the sea.

One fellow who saw him doing this decided to stop him and ask, "Why are you doing this?"

The starfish picker said ,"They'll dry up and die if we don't toss them back into the sea."

"But there are thousands of starfish on the beach. How can you make a difference to all of them?"

The starfish guy looked at the starfish he just picked up. As he threw it into the sea, he said,"Well, it makes a difference to this one."

I've always loved this tale because it reminds me that the small things we do can make a huge difference to someone's life. We may not be able to save the world- but by a small action, we would have saved someone's world.

This will be my leading resolution for 2011 (alongside others like waking up earlier, sticking to my exercise programme, taking 5 minutes for self-affirmation daily)- picking up starfish on the beach.

It's easy to get discouraged when the things we do does not get feedback or does not seem to work. Sometimes all we need is just one teenie weenee boost- whether a phone call, text message, hard-written note tucked away somewhere. What I'm going to do in 2011 is to blog about people who are an inspiration in some way or other.

Some people inspire others through their work; others through their strong fighting spirit; still others just by being who they are. I've met so many along my life travels, yet only now I realise I'm not giving them full credit by highlighting their impact on my life.

What has been holding me back? Well....they might be embarrassed. Or annoyed. Even angry...who knows? But a good story deserves to be told, even when it goes against the grain.

Perhaps their story will inspire you too. Perhaps it might push you to do something for someone that will change their lives. Perhaps it will ignite you to do something that gets you one step closer to your dreams.

If and when that happens, I'd have successfully saved one more starfish on the beach.