I love you. My three Mothers.

Mama, Abu, Aunty.
Covid19 Lockdown- D5
*Modigliani

To all the women in my life;
I owe you a debt of gratitude for which I can never fully repay.

Thank You.

Life gave me extra care by gifting me three mothers and three major loves of my life who all went on to be mothers of their own to beautiful children (I gather).

God couldn't be everywhere so he made Mothers.

To my biological mother, for birthing me, naming me and spending considerable time nurturing and shaping me as a child before leaving me after only 11 years. Though much time was spent in strife with papa and your own restless self.

My baby sister inseparable from Mama

I remember elegance and mischief to be pleasant memories of my years with you Mama. The poise at which you carried yourself has a quality of dignified elegance. That's about the only thing you shared with papa. I inherited my own effortless grace from the both of you.

The tricks you played on me particularly the tricycle gambit for my birthday gift, also gifted me the trait of playfulness. Which was unforgettable and inevitably ingrained in me, the joy of receiving & giving pleasant surprises. Hence mischief is an ingrained trait. It became my middle name. This trait is to be blamed for all my troubles, missteps and misdemeanours.

You came and went into and out of our life rather unexpectedly but fulfilling your purpose and role leaving my 10 year-old baby sister and I to embark on our own journey so tender in our life. Then came along...

My Abu & Papa

My other mother who was my step -mother. Although she wears a sarong kebaya and a stern exterior she cared for us and raised us with love and compassion.

Although not my biological mother She was related to me in a technically biological way. Her mother and my paternal grandmother were sisters. She cooked and kept house like a model Nyonya from Malacca. Noble and dignified. Lacking in no skills in any department of housekeeping and f & b. Especially in the area of F&B.

She ignited in me my lust for all things spicy and curry. Fish Sambal and Beef Curry. Sambal Belacan & Sambal Petai Ikan Bilis as well.

She inspired me with her deep patience and endurance of all things physical.

More importantly she had a heart of gold in receiving people of all stripe, especially relatives & family. Giving comfort and advice unconditionally to people of all gripe.

Did I say she tended to farm animals and dogs too. A self-trained veterinarian she cured many birds and mammals. Our poultry and seven dogs mainly. One time a cow wandered in ostensibly looking for help from our resident Vet but our dogs got to her first. I think she survived or not...! Either way I think my Abu would have had a cure for the cow's ailment. Just like she'd have a cure for any of our woes. Not the particularly demonstrative type, she didn't know how to show outward love to us but she showed it in the depth and care she puts into her cooking and baking for us especially during festivals.

Unfortunately medical science had no cure for her cervical cancer. She suffered in silence for months if not years by not telling us. Perchance my sister-in-law spotted irregularities during one family outing to Melaka, her favourite place of visit. She would always light up with joy whenever we visited any one of her siblings be it her third brother in Bandar Hilir or last sister in Tanjung Keling.

Many months were spent in cancer therapy. Most of which were brutal.

She endured the chemical punishment with dignity, courage and vigor. Although a calm person she has few fears but the treatments are scary. I've seen her endure the daily chores of home- everything from housekeeping that is required plus what's not required. Growing and weeding potted plants of orchids and bougainvilleas. Tending to the fruit trees and garden. But what I saw and witnessed was monumental resilience to pain from the drugs, the cancer and numerous therapies including radioactive radium. Her already frail body took the punishment with courage and dignity. A trait I later saw displayed by my eldest sister,  Abu's only child.

After long stays in hospitals in Malacca and KL, we brought Abu home. She further endured and suffered the disease in the confines of our home and loved ones until her last day. Our Abu went peacefully in her favourite rocking chair surrounded by family on August 15, 1986.

Hers was the second funeral my father oversaw as surviving husband. First being my mama in a virtually unmarked grave in Seremban.

My mama died in a motorcar accident involving my older brother from her earlier widowed marriage, three cousins fr. Singapore, my baby sister and I.

On August 15 1969 my mother and a cousin drowned when a small car driven by my half brother overturned into a pond during a heavy rainy Friday afternoon. We were on the way to mama's new house warming in Seremban. That was my first physical encounter with death and realised that it was a miracle I survived. So did my baby sister, my two cousins and my older half-brother.

I cradled her unconscious head on my lap on the hard metal floor of the military truck that rushed us to the nearest hospital. The doctor pronounced her and our second cousin dead upon arrival. 1969 was an eventful year for me, my country and the world. We lost mama, Woodstock started that day, we had our first race riots on May 13 and on July 20 Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon and the Beatles staged their last public performance.

Neil on the Moon

Woodstock 15-18 Aug. 1969

My father managed to survive his wives very well. He even managed a couple of relationships in over 20 years. He finally ensnared a good looking single Cantonese woman fr. Kampar, 28 years younger to spend 27 years married to him. And taking care of him. I am eternally grateful to her, papa's third wife for being a travel companion and caretaker to my father and to also endure him till the end. We are indeed blessed.

She now lives in Johol caretaker to our ancestral home and companion to herself. Sometimes me by cooking for me and cleaning after me whenever I'm spending time at the farm. I now get to spend time with my so called "mother " although we siblings never acknowledged her as that, we all agreed to address her as Aunty. I still find her self absorbed. But she's a quality act. Good strong values and principles. Talented cook, good housekeeper with a fastidiousness for cleanliness. But she tires easily. A survivor nonetheless.

She's getting along very well in her own way. And I'm getting to know her and myself better in my grateful acceptance of her in the process. *why do people view another of fathers woman with disdain? Shouldn't we happy for him?  For them?  For her?

I now know how my children feel about me leaving mum. I do it myself. Or is it totally unrelated?

Anyway I look forward to connecting more with her to get to know her better to make her happy. She's just about all I've got, close-by for now.

She suffers from weak legs and painful knees. I can only hope she be more positive at least half her battle is won. She's fine. Really.

She being my father's third wife has probably seen my entire family grow up. And in her own ways saw to the raising of my children. However aloof. She bore the brunt of her aloofness from my then wife. Who didn't mince her words when it came to our Aunty. They never got along. She never got to meet the first two. The vibes may be much different seeing how similarly strong they all are.

Stay safe. Stay tuned. Literally.