Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Unsung Hero (12/07/06)
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TITLE: Once Upon a Thatched Roof | Previous Challenge Entry
By Angeline oppenheimer
12/14/06 -
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Before someone coined the often-repeated adage, “Commit random acts of kindness,” I met the embodiment of one. As a matter of fact, she lived in that colonial house across the street. Born of Portuguese and Indian descent, this mother of eight carried a laughter bigger than her smile.
Her family moved into our poor neighborhood when I was seven. Her house was the toast of our tiny village….the only one with two television sets and a huge refrigerator.
Her yard held all kinds of exotic orchids and an arbor bursting with fragrant roses. Her husband drove a huge car while the rest of us went about in bicycles or trishaws. Her house smelled perpetually of coconut cookies and mutton curries. She seemed to live notches above anyone I knew for miles around and she had every reason to snub us, well, who’s to blame her?
By comparison, my mom had to make delicacies to sell in the local market because my dad could hardly afford to feed us on a laborer’s wage. We barely scraped by with basic necessities. Other needs would have to wait. We could see the moonlight through holes in our thatched roof. On rainy days (which is often in tropical Singapore), we had to line buckets just so we could catch the dripping rain. We stuffed papers into our shoes to build our lost soles. We salivated every time the ice-cream man came around as we watched other kids gathered around the truck. Toys? Never heard that word before …….
Before we watched Christmas being celebrated by our new neighbors, the Raksavares. In our Buddhist enclave, we only knew about Christmas from the Western movies. The first Christmas, Mrs. R came over with presents and cookies sealed in the most beautiful boxes I’ve ever seen. . My five brothers and I watched, like deer caught in the floodlight. While my mom thanked her profusely, I could hardly wait for her to go so I could carefully remove the wrapping to discover my first present. A pink dainty tea-set completed with spoons and little saucers. I could hardly contain my joy, yet jumping up and down was never an expression in our tight-lipped oriental home. I played “come to my tea-party” all day.
That could be one random act of kindness brought about by the spirit of Christmas but she continued that act whenever, even though, they always seemed to come at the most appropriate time. A plate of cookies, a jar of pickles, a pot of curry….they found their way into our house like much needed manna. Our palates so used to porridge, puffed to look more substantial by lots of water and soup thickened with sweet potatoes from our backyard couldn’t be more thankful.
My brothers and I no longer had to peep into our neighbors’ window to watch television, as we owned none. The Lims felt that their television set was an expensive acquisition and allowing a few kids into their house to watch television would cheapen the aura of such.
Mrs. R didn‘t mind at all. Her kids’ ages almost matched my brothers and I. She showed no concern that her family room were littered with a bunch of neighborhood kids watching cartoons while playing “Five Stones” on the side. Often, she would make us a red drink, made from hibiscus and that would sweeten the afternoon even more. Our random laughter never seemed to fray her, neither our sometimes noisy friendly banter. On rainy days, Maria (we were both seven) and I were even allowed to jump on her plush, springy bed. Life can be good when you have a few good friends and a wonderful lady who understood the essence of life. Our hungry bodies and raggedly clothes didn’t seem to matter as much.
Mrs. Raksavares moved away five years later. I never got a chance to thank her as I was too young to understand the weight of such things, but mostly because I was too sad. As my brothers and I waved our goodbyes, the day seemed a shade darker. Our hearts collapsed, like a big shaft of light had suddenly left.
I never got to see Mrs. R again. From time to time, images of her flashed across my mind, especially, when I find myself fixing dinner for a sick friend, or running errands for shut-ins. Random acts of kindness….she taught me well
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