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  • Red Lions enjoy trip darn sarf

    Having endured controversy on and off the pitch recently, what the Red Lions really needed was to get back some of that feel good factor. The runners up prize in Bangkok helped restore some pride on the international scene, but domestically it was up to those few Lions who headed to Tainan over the weekend to restore some much needed morale. And surprisingly enough, it was delivered by a barebones squad and a couple of ringers.

    And it all started so badly. Matt “I’ll be there early because I want to warm up” Clark missed the train down, and several others who had committed pulled out at the 12th hour. Captain “Gayer” Rob Iwanicki trawled Carnegies in the early hours of Saturday morning, looking for people drunk enough to agree to play, yet sober enough to actually be able to get up in the morning to play, and secured the services of Francois. Having already brought in Mike O’Gorman and Carl Blundon from Carnegies, the Red Lions who turned up on time for the train were “Gay” Rob Fowler, “Gayer” Rob Iwanicki, Tim “Knee, Brutus, Bruno” Brown, Kevin “Dumpling”, Clovis “Only Gay in the Village” Sinistera and Fred Helander.

    Despite several calls, Matt did not answer, thanks to an alcohol-induced coma, and when he finally was responsive, he was so late that he missed the first match. As the barebones squad arrived in Tainan at the pitch, “Gayer” Rob quickly enlisted former Red Lion and veteran, Danny “Father of the Year” Lin, alongside Red Star reject Til.

    So to the first game, against the Kaohsiung Pacers who, it must be said, are not the team they were some years ago. Dominating the game, the Red Lions made light of the game, and even scored a goal, Tim slotting the ball away to give the Lions the perfect start to the tournament. With a strong midfield, Mike and Francois were commanding in their distribution and mazey runs, Blundinho as always playing with passion and putting the opponents under pressure, and all outfield players generally lively as Rob “Howler” Fowler was left with a minimal amount of work to do.

    Matt finally made it to the second game, and the Red Lions had the luxury of a substitute. In the heat of Tainan, it was needed. Despite some good defending, when the game seemed destined for a 0-0 draw, Phoenix scored twice in the last few minutes to win 2-0.

    Then to the turning point of the competition for the Red Lions – the final game of the day. Clovissimo enlisted the services of his Panamanian compatriot Luis (not THAT Luis!) who came on for the game against Kaohsiung Massive. The first few minutes saw the Lions dominate, but we were unable to convert that in to pressure on the goalkeeper, and after this early spell, Massive turned the table. Shot after shot went in on goal, but somehow “Gay” Rob was in inspired form, making save after save, despite having rolled on the ground like a dying warthog after what has to be said was a late and heavy challenge by an opponents’ attacker.
    Then after some poor marking, a volley was smashed home to make the score 1-0 to Massive, and perhaps those watching thought it was game over. But there is only one Red Lion who likes to lie down and take it up the arse, and collectively the Lions were able to turn the game around, firstly via a free kick that was “won” by the diving pole, Francois equalizing from a very savable shot, and then in the last minute, another relatively easy shot from Fred ensuring Clovis’ favourite come from behind victory, and the Lions now in the driving seat for qualification to one of the finals on the second day.

    The team headed out in the evening, a great dinner followed by copious amounts of alcohol, and a hot date for one Lion who shall remain unnamed. With an 11 AM kick off for the next morning, the Lions’ took full advantage and partied in typical Lion fashion.

    The Sunday saw the two easiest games – at least on paper – against the Scunners and Red Star. The Scunners put up more of a fight than expected but the Lions ground out a 2-1 win, Luis and Fred scoring, and then a 3-0 rout of Red Star meant that we had to wait for the result of the Massive-Phoenix game to see if we made the cup or plate final.

    Having been on the receiving end of a fortuitous penalty decision in the previous game against the Pacers, Phoenix also benefitted from some dodgy refereeing decisions as they beat Massive, to set up a Cup final match against the Super Eagles. The Lions, by default, were then drawn against the Shelts in the Plate final.

    The first half was dominated by the Lions, Tim “Knee” Brown scoring his second of the tournament, as the Lions went in to half time a goal up. The second half saw the domination reversed, and as a high ball caught the wind, it ended up past a statue-esque Fowler and in the net, the game ending 1-1 and on to penalties.

    Rob “Howler” Fowler couldn’t save a penalty to save his life these days, it would seem. Tim “Knee” Brown can’t score one to save his. The Lions lost 4-3, ending up 4th in the competition. Not bad – it must be said – for a team that looked like it was not going to be able to field a full team for the first match.

    Our thanks to all those who helped out – Carl, Francois and Mike especially, who all ran and ran like dynamos. Tim bought 2 rounds of beers after his penalty miss, but did not escape a 2-year ban from penalty taking.

    The HSR ride home was animated, and delayed, thanks to the Captain, Vice-Captain and Chairman playing a “beer in hand” game and not working out that it was getting dark and therefore perhaps we should get moving to the station. Thankfully though, the beer kept flowing and ran out in Hsinchu, before we all headed to Carnegies for one final celebratory beer. Or two.

  • 2010 Bangkok

    Bangkok 2009. The first game. The first second. The first goal of the tournament conceded. The fastest in tournament history. Not – it must be said – the Red Lions’ finest moment. But did it get better from then on? No. It shaped our weekend.

    All those kind-hearted souls who were busy pampering to those unfortunate homeless girls that they found wandering the streets of Pad Pong and Nana Plaza would have missed the audacious 60 yard lob, over the flailing keeper. Such acts of selflessness often go punished. No wonder it’s called the City of Angels, with so many men eager to offer shelter and breakfast to young ladies who are unable to afford meager accommodation of their own.

    But it’s 2010. A new year, a new tournament. The Lions have learnt from the mistakes of the past – we’ve entered the 7-a-side vets tournament, the goalkeeper will be glued to his goal line, and not in a central midfield position like last year, and there is a rumour we might actually be able to field a full team.

    Chairman, goalkeeper, and loud-mouth extra-ordinaire, Rob “Howler” Fowler is under strict instructions to stay between the sticks. Defensive stalwart George teams up with veteran Red Lion Tony Hewitt, who is flying in from Shanghai, getting time away from his wife under the pretense of a business trip, and Mr Red Lions himself, Paddy O’Sullivan. Paul “Ginger” Hemingway is making his debut appearance at the GAS Easter tournament, and without putting pressure on him, we’re expecting him to be the one sober Lion on the pitch.

    A strong midfield combination of captain Andy Rooney alongside the bouncing Czech, Frank Beloch will run rings around all opponents, especially in the warm up. Pairing up with the Germans Mirko Messner and Volker Nagel, the midfield resembles more a nuclear power station than a dynamo.

    In a break from footballing tradition, we’re not planning on bringing any attackers. History has shown us that prying our own pole-dancer away from the professional pole-dancers has proven impossible. We’ll just leave Rob “Polack” Iwanicki in the bars. He might turn up late afternoon for the final game, once he’s sobered up just a little.

  • Floating Cloud - Chapter 2

    The end of the Vietnam War in 1975 had left its scars across South East Asia, and with it came a very real fear of a potential spread of communism. When we were ten, although the war had finished three years earlier, there was still a tense calm, even in Singapore. Cao Ping and I did not understand anything really of what the background was, and Vietnam was still far enough away for us not to worry about it. However, one late evening, as I was pouring Xi Ghong a glass of Scotch, he told me that war is never a good thing.

    “We can never achieve happiness through violence. Never forget that.”

    Words of advice, only Xi Ghong could give me, a small double standard I thought, remembering the beatings I would get.

    “You are a floating spirit Fu Yun, and you will have to travel great distances to travel to fulfil your destiny,” he said, as though he were a fortune teller, “yet you must not succumb to violence, no matter what. Your spirit will not take it.”

    When I was born, as my mother was unable to name me, Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee took me to a Buddhist temple where I was given the name Fu Yun - floating cloud. It was seen there and then that there was a spirit inside me that would be restless, one that would look for adventure, one that would always be looking for inner peace, no matter where it had to go to find it.

    When Xi Ghong told me this, he talked about Vietnam, and what had happened there, as if he had been there himself, in amongst the bloody fighting, with the Americans pushing their noses in where they did not belong.

    “They fought a half battle – they were not interested in giving all they had. It was nothing more than a token fight. Let Vietnam fall, it means nothing to them really.”

    “Did you have Vietnamese relatives Xi Ghong?” I asked.

    A sudden eerie silence fell about the room with my question. Until that time, I had assumed that Xi Ghong had also come from the mainland. He had never spoken about his childhood, nor about his parents. I just knew that they were dead. He had not told me anything more than that, and I knew better, until this point, than to ask anything about them.

    “My grandfather came from the mainland, my grandmother from Vietnam. I have no time for the People’s Army. I am true Chinese, but everywhere the People’s Army goes, it leaves nothing in peace. And no one stands up to them – no one came to the rescue of Tibet either.”

    Tibet? I had learnt about the march of destruction of Tibet in 1950, the desecration of holy relics in Lhasa and the fighting that had left thousands dead or dying, or fleeing to the safe haven of India. It was a lot later that I had a better view of what really had happened there, the gang-rapes, beatings and torture camps, with families being forced to beat their own in public “trials”. The shame for them, being embarrassed in front of the same people they had thought of as their friends just months previously.

    It was estimated that over a million Tibetans were killed or tortured by the invading Chinese, with religion outlawed and 6,000 Buddhist monasteries and all the religious artefacts held therein destroyed. A complete culture with thousands of years of history was effectively eradicated within just a couple of years.

    “Xi Ghong,” I said very quietly, “am I allowed to ask about this?”

    Xi Ghong emptied his glass, gave it to me and instead of the usual gesture to take the glass to the kitchen area and wash it, signalled for me to refill it, with an extra splash. I could tell that this was serious conversation time.

    Mei-Lee went out of the room to her bedroom. Xi Ghong told me that she did not want to be reminded of what had happened. The story he told me there was the most personal account of anything he had ever said to me. We never talked about it afterwards, yet he was moved by the whole history behind him and Mei-Lee. I knew better than to ever ask him to go through those emotions again.

    When he had met Mei-Lee, back in 1930, there had been a lot of turmoil in China, and civil war was changing the face of China. The two opposing forces in the civil war temporarily stopped fighting one another and instead came together in 1931 to push out the invading Japanese. And when that enemy had been ridden and sent back to the land of the rising sun fourteen years later, China had once again renewed its old feud. After succumbing to the Communists of Mao Tse Tung in 1949, Chiang Kai Shek and the KMT Party retreated to the island of Taiwan, leaving the Communists on the mainland to become the People’s Republic of China.

    “They have done nothing for the people of China, Fu Yun – only for themselves”, Xi Ghong said to me.

    Xi Ghong did not go in to the details of how they arrived in Singapore, but they had had more than just a taste of the life under the communist regime and in the fight against Mao's conquest. He told me briefly about the People’s Liberation Army’s actions during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960’s, and the huge breach of Human Rights over so many areas.

    “Tibet was probably nothing more than a way to gain face after the KMT left for Taiwan” he said. “Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macao – they are all part of the 'family', and the Chinese communists will fight all the way to ensure they do not ever lose face. For them, the honour of the Chinese people is at stake here. They will fight to regain their honour after having lost these jewels.”

    “It is always a matter of honour with us Chinese”, I said. Xi Ghong looked strangely at me at that. “Everything we do comes down to honour.”

    “Honour is gained, Fu Yun. Honour is won, but not with the gun. Not through fighting. The Buddhists of Tibet were interested only in peaceful life. They were not fighters; the Chinese were not honourable by fighting. Tibet was re-annexed into China. Buddhism teaches us that we need not fight with weapons, that peace is the sole way forward.

    “My grandmother always told me that the Chinese would ruin Vietnam. She loved my grandfather with all her heart, but theirs was an arranged marriage. A question of honour for her – in previous times we would respect our Elders, Fu Yun. Today the respect is there, but it is a different respect. The world can learn a lot from the Chinese culture, but the Chinese culture also needs to learn from the rest of the world.

    “It is no longer a time for force. It is a time for peace – our world is in trouble, our world…”

    Xi Ghong broke off. I could see that he was fighting back a lot of emotion. I had never seen him like this, and would never see him like this again.

    “Look at the Americans," said, regaining his composure for a moment, "pretending they rule the world, this arrogance of the West. Look at the Chinese, the Russians, the French, the Australians. They get involved in a war in Vietnam – it is not their war, but they make it theirs to fight, and then do not even have the honour to fight with dignity. Fu Yun, if you are going to do something, do it with your heart.”

    With that, he punched himself hard on his heart, and a small tear escaped from his eye. Pretending not to notice, I got up and brought the bottle to Xi Ghong. Although he was getting redder in the face, I put this down more to the anger inside him than the Whisky.

    “Xi Ghong,” I asked, “why do so many countries have to fight always?”

    “Because they are brought up to think that force is power,” Xi Ghong said, pouring himself another glass of the imported Chivas Regal, “that force is respect. They command none of that – the power is the force that is inside your soul. And it is up to you to find peace with yourself. They no longer understand that we need to live together. They will take what our ancestors have built and destroy it completely.”

    Xi Ghong told me about the Vietnamese in Hong Kong - how they were being treated, but how Vietnamese people were still better off there than in their homeland that was now facing an even bigger battle. Now that the war was over, the battle was just beginning for all the families who were left homeless, for all those with no food, without hope. It was as bleak as it had ever been, even during the days of war.

    “The clouds are dark over Vietnam. The storm is far from over,” said Xi Ghong, as he slowly got up from his chair, the empty glass beside him. “Sleep now, Fu Yun. You have today learnt much, but there is more for you to learn that does not involve me.”

    The bottle, almost empty, was precariously placed on the edge of the table, next to Xi Ghong’s chair. Xi Ghong staggered to join Mei-Lee. I picked up the bottle, took it back to its place, washed the glass and went to bed.

    My thoughts that night were full of the poor Vietnamese people, crammed into boats with the sole intention of finding a life better than the one in their homeland. The fact that so many died on the seas trying to escape the despair in their own country, the fact that they were not accepted anywhere else, the fact that so many would be repatriated meant nothing to these people – it was worth the risk. I slowly fell into a restless sleep.

    The next morning was sunny and I was in a rush to get to Cao Ping and talk with her. She would feel as much pain as I did from the story. Mei-Lee was already up, cooking dumplings and eggs for Xi Ghong and me. I was nervous, excited, but I knew that I should not show these emotions to either Mei-Lee or Xi Ghong. I tried hard to eat normally, despite my racing heart.

    “You are always so excited Fu Yun,” said Xi Ghong. He had not even looked at me, yet he could sense it.

    I looked over at him, and saw in his eyes that he knew what I wanted to do. I also knew that I had his blessing.

    “Go to Cao Ping. Do not be late for school, and work hard. I want to see you fulfil your proper destiny.”

    Xi Ghong almost managed a smile. What he had told me had given me a taste of something to come, and some more direction. I gathered my sports gear, ready for the Wednesday afternoon, and my school bag, and ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and into the heart of Chinatown. I knew my first big goal in life had arrived.

    Even at the age of ten, I still could not get used to the way everybody would look at me. A Caucasian exile in a Chinese world. I walked to the fruit stand, bought a mango and from the small store next door, a can of Oolong tea, and walked towards Cao Ping’s apartment. I hid out of sight, watching the front door for her to appear. Usually she would head over to the bus stop at 7 AM, and we knew each other’s habits so well.

    I did not need to look for the time, as the door to her apartment block opened – I knew it was her. I waited for a few seconds before coming out of my hiding place, scared that her father may see me.

    “Why are you here? What has happened?” she asked.

    I started talking to her about what Xi Ghong had told me about Vietnam on the way to school and said that we had to do something.

    “You are impulsive Fu Yun. Let us think it over together.”

    “But we have to do something to help these poor people. They have done nothing and are run over by the weapons of foreigners. This is not fair.”

    Cao Ping smiled, a warm smile that would always calm me down. Somehow my excitement immediately slowed to a reasonable level, and my thoughts once again became less impulsive. Cao Ping was right – I was very impulsive.
    At lunchtime that day, we headed out of the school grounds, and to a small market where we could get some noodle soup. Sitting opposite me, I recognised just how beautiful she was, and smiled across at her. She must have known what I was thinking, as she flushed a little.

    “We have to do something to help the Vietnamese, Fu Yun,” she said. I beamed – she had been thinking over what I had said and had reached the same conclusion as me.

    At school that afternoon, I could see that she was planning everything in her mind, but the teacher saw she was not concentrating, and scolded her. This did not seem to have any effect on Cao Ping and she made her plans to help as many Vietnamese refugees as possible. This lack of concentration from the star pupil incensed our teacher, and he punished Cao Ping for the first time ever, hitting her more than just a couple of times with a short bamboo cane, and not gently either.

    On the way home from school, Cao Ping did not seem to mind despite the obvious tingling in her hands, and had an idea which we talked about. Her father had some contacts in Hong Kong, and so maybe he could get the two of us over there so we could get into the camps and work there.

    “I don’t think your father will be very happy for us to go together,” I said.

    Cao Ping smiled. She knew that she would have a tough time in persuading her parents that she should go, but if she were to mention my name, it would be an impossible task.

    “We will have to find our way there separately, and meet in Hong Kong,” she suggested.

    The bus took us back to Chinatown and Cao Ping got off at her stop. Her father was waiting for her, for the first time that I could remember. He gave me a look that almost made me cower, and took Cao Ping by the hand, marching swiftly to their apartment.

    The next morning I waited for Cao Ping as usual, but she did not turn up on time for the bus and so I headed to school alone. When I got there, Cao Ping was already there.

    “I will not be coming to school by bus any longer Fu Yun,” she told me. “My father will drive me here and pick me up as soon as school is finished.”

    “Why?”

    “Because the teacher told my parents I was not concentrating in class. They say it is all your influence. I told them that we had talked about helping the Vietnamese in Hong Kong and they said…”

    Cao Ping broke off, sobbing.

    “They said that I should take more care of my school work and of my parents than I should of the Vietnamese. They said…it is your fault. They are blaming you for it.”

    That came as no surprise to me.

    “Fu Yun, they don’t want us to be together doing anything. I think they will take me away from this school.”

    I was stunned. Deep inside my heart I knew that this day was bound to come at some stage, but in my eternally optimistic state, I decided to ignore the fears and hope that it would not happen. My world crashed around me, the only thing that really kept me going, the only person in the school who understood me, who accepted me, was now being forced out of my life – just like in my nightmare.

    I made myself calm down, as I knew it was futile to do what my heart said – there was no way in the world I was going to be able to directly affect Cao Ping’s parents decision. There was only one thing for me to do – I would have to talk with Xi Ghong.

    I sat there, watching Cao Ping cry, and I gave her my pack of tissues, which swiftly became sodden with the mix of her tears and the morning rain. If only I could do something to make her smile once more, but I felt just as bad as she did, and my optimism at this point was dented to the point of being completely broken.

    “Xi Ghong will know what to do, Cao Ping. His advice is always wise. He will point us in the right direction.”

    Cao Ping almost smiled, but the tears kept on streaming down her face. We headed to class, about as despondent as we had ever been. I held Cao Ping’s hand and looked into her eyes, my own eyes telling her that everything would work out, hardly believing it myself. And then I said it:

    “I love you Cao Ping. Nothing will take us from each other. Where you go, I will always be with you.”

    Cao Ping threw herself around me, and we held each other tight, drawing stares from the other kids who were just arriving, and heading into the classrooms themselves.

    Teacher ordered us to sit apart during class, and it was obvious where that command had come from. We both knew that any argument would only make matters worse, and so we complied. When we thought that teacher was not looking, we glanced at each other, the smile in the eye obvious only to ourselves – we would get over this hurdle and be stronger for it.

    At the end of the school day, Cao Ping left to be greeted by her father. I stayed back and watched as she tried to smile at her father. It must have been so hard for her, knowing that her parents wanted a boy more than anything, and having all the pressure to perform well at school.

    I wondered if I was worthy of having her as a friend, but left this thought as quickly as it came – I did not want to go down that road. Instead of going back to the apartment immediately, I went to buy some flowers for Mei-Lee – it was her birthday, and I wanted to make her happy. I too was unwanted in a way, but I wanted to make her smile all the same.

    I had saved a few dollars and bought as beautiful a bouquet as I could afford, whilst leaving myself enough money for some sarsaparilla. I took both the can of soda and the bunch of flowers with me back to the apartment, and was stunned for the second time that day. When I arrived back in the apartment, no one was there. Xi Ghong was almost always there when I arrived back from school and Mei-Lee hardly left the apartment at all – she had been in ill health for some time.

    I arranged the bouquet in a vase, and placed it on the table in the main room, so that as soon as they returned, Mei-Lee would see her flowers, and went to my room to do my homework and drink my sarsaparilla. I felt a real lack of motivation, even though I knew that I would have to work twice as hard to achieve the grades expected of me. I had made great strides in mathematics, thanks to Cao Ping and her patient explanations, but still was behind in science.

    When I had finished all my work, it was dark and there was still no sign of Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee. I decided that I was going to cook something special for the two of them, and took ten dollars from the jar where Mei-Lee would keep her food money. I knew that I was trusted, and they kept this hiding place for money no secret from me.

    In the market I bought some Chinese broccoli, some carrots, garlic and ginger, and headed over to the fish market. There was a commotion there, as usual, but I noticed a fish for sale that I had never seen before. I went to the stallholder and asked what it was. He had seen me with Mei-Lee many times and was not surprised when I spoke with him in Chinese.

    “Come from Australia – Red Snapper. Very good fish to cook.”

    Although it was expensive, I thought that Mei-Lee and Xi Ghong would forgive me – after all, it was her birthday – and so I bought it.

    I stopped to buy some lemons and then started to walk back to the apartment. Cao Ping suddenly appeared in front of me, her father two paces behind her. I froze – I had absolutely no idea what to do. I knew I couldn’t talk with her, but my legs just would not move any further.

    “Luo Xian Sheng hao,” I addressed her father, when he saw me, and nodded my head. Cao Ping grinned a manic grin, but made sure her father did not see it. Somehow I managed to keep a straight face. Cao Ping’s father acknowledged my greeting with a nod, but nothing more, then turned to Cao Ping and led her off in another direction.

    By the time I got home, Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee were back, Mei-Lee was smelling the flowers, and when I walked in and announced that I was cooking dinner, even Xi Ghong smiled. Over dinner, I looked over at Xi Ghong, who appeared curiously contented. I was intrigued – something was going on that I did not know about, and I was bursting with questions, but ate the fish and rice in silence. Mei-Lee was eating her red snapper with a vigour I had not seen recently, and that told me that she was enjoying it. When I had cleared the bowls away, I poured Xi Ghong his glass of Scotch and handed it to him.

    “You are a good child, Fu Yun,” he said. “Today you made Mei-Lee very happy. You are a good cook – you have learned well.”

    “I know she does a lot for me, and on her birthday I am glad to show her that I appreciate everything.” I tried to hide my surprise at the compliment – Xi Ghong had never made that kind of expression towards me before.

    Xi Ghong leant towards me, and gave me a knowing smile.

    “The Vietnamese need your help,” he said.

    “I will go to Hong Kong – I want to do everything I can, especially now.”

    “You think your hope has disappeared, but just be strong. Life teaches us that we must take bad times, so that we can appreciate the good.”

    “I always appreciated Cao Ping. I don’t understand why her father is so intolerant of us being friends.”

    “Long story. Not going to talk about it now.”

    I sighed. I wanted to understand at least why my one and only true friend was no longer allowed to even talk with me. The one thing that I treasured above everything else in the world had been taken from me. I was not really hearing what Xi Ghong was saying, and certainly did not follow any of his implications until he waved his glass in my direction, for me to give him a refill.

    “Luo Xian Sheng has seen that maybe his actions were a little harsh. It is a wise man who will listen to all arguments before making a decision. You and Cao Ping will be able to go to Hong Kong together.”

    Xi Ghong always was my absolute hero, despite the fact that he would beat me occasionally. He had earned the respect of so many people in our neighbourhood, and when he talked, his words were accepted as being full of wisdom and intelligence. He spoke with authority and although I never fully understood just what his role was in the Chinese community in Singapore, I did know that he met with a lot of people. And still he would find time for me, to bring me up in the way he had promised my father many years before.

    What had he said to change Cao Ping’s father’s mind? Had he pulled a few strings? There were so many questions running through my mind and the broadest smile possible on my face. The Chinese try not to show too much emotion, either happiness or sadness, but this was one thing that I just could not master. Xi Ghong always knew how I felt – to him I was an open book.

    “Luo Xian Sheng just needed to know the background information. He was not aware that I had given you the seed for the idea. You grew it, and it is commendable that you are so eager to assist those who are suffering from the pains of the war. I suggested that Luo Xian Sheng accompany you to Hong Kong to see for himself that your heart is pure and also to give his assistance.

    “You will fly next week – I have arranged the flights and you will stay with Mei-Lee’s brother in Kowloon.”

    I took some time to take in all this information. Of course I was overjoyed that Cao Ping and I could spend time together but I had no idea what to make of the fact that also her father was joining us. He could exert his fatherly influence there where I could have no chance of relying on Xi Ghong’s help.

    And Mei-Lee’s brother? I had never known that she even had a brother until Xi Ghong told me I was staying with him.

    “Where will Cao Ping and Luo Xian Sheng stay?” I asked

    “They will be also in Kowloon – Luo Xian Sheng has family contacts there. You will see Cao Ping during the day. After you have finished your work, you will go back to Mei-Lee’s brother. You will not mix with the others, you will not stay behind to work longer hours. You disobey my orders and you will be punished. Luo Xian Sheng will keep an eye on you and Cao Ping. If there is any trouble, he will bring her back straight away. That is the agreement.”

    Although I wanted to be happy with this turnaround in fortunes, I was still wary of Cao Ping’s father. He bore a grudge against me, and Xi Ghong would not tell me what it was.

    “Xi Ghong, how do you know everything? Even things I do not tell you?”

    “There are no secrets that you can keep from me Fu Yun. I know your spirit, and I hear the words that come to me. There are a lot of people keeping an eye open for you – you are different to us Chinese, yet you are one of us. But people are still wary of you, and do not fully trust you. You have to work twice as hard to achieve what a Chinese can do. One day though Fu Yun, you will achieve your goal. You will make good your honour to Mei-Lee and myself.”

    The next morning I packed my schoolbooks and my football gear and headed for the school bus. Cao Ping was brought by her mother, who gave her a warning frown when she left. She was under strict instructions to behave and to concentrate on her schoolwork. This was the last week before the holidays, and we were to have some final tests today, before sports.

    It was also the final of the school’s football competition, our school being pitted against the champions of the last two years, Orchard Road School. Cao Ping was going to be allowed to watch the game, but only under her father’s supervision, and she was both nervous and excited about it.

    “You will win today and make Xi Ghong very happy,” she said. I knew that she would also be very happy and proud, if we succeeded.

    I smiled at her, and our eyes met. Cao Ping’s dark brown eyes sparkled like I had not known them to. They told me that everything I felt for her was mirrored. I could see that she wanted to ask me about what I had said to her the previous day. Looking back, at the tender age of ten, how could we have known that we loved each other? I felt the warmth of her smile and resolved to win the football match for her.

    But before the fun, there is always the pain. The science test that I had worked hard for was very difficult. Even Cao Ping struggled on some of the questions. I knew that I would be lucky to get a pass, and there was not one pupil who left the room thinking he or she had done well.

    “That was not a good test for you Fu Yun. I think someone knew your weaknesses and put those questions in.”

    “Many of us were struggling there. I hope I have done enough to make it through.”

    For lunch, we went to the food market, where Cao Ping bought me a noodle soup, and she sat there watching me, playing with her beef noodles, hardly touching them.

    “What are you thinking about?” I asked, slurping on my hot soup.

    Cao Ping looked over at me, and again my heart jumped as her eyes sparkled.

    “You said that you love me.”

    “I do. You bring happiness to my heart that no one else could ever bring. I will play the match today for you. If I score a goal, it will be you who scores it. If we win the match, it will be you who gets the medal. You make everything possible, you give me the reason to fight.”

    “I know you will win the football today, I know you have passed the test, I know you can do anything.”

    She touched her jade monkey that was hanging around her neck.

    “I still remember when we got these from Xi Ghong,” she said. “I will always treasure it. It is our symbol.”

    I put my hand to my own chain, and felt the calming force of the jade monkey. It gave me a great deal of security and I knew that it meant as much to Cao Ping as it did to me.

    Getting ready for the football game, the teacher was looking nervous – he knew that we wanted to win so much, yet we were playing against one of the only teams to have beaten us during the season. Having lost two games in a season meant we finished third in the league and made it to the semi-finals. Having overcome the second-placed team relatively comfortably, we now had to play against the best team on the Singaporean peninsular. I was trying my hardest to keep calm and relaxed, but failing miserably. I heard the teacher talking, but no words made it to my sub-conscious.

    The game was one full of defence, and when Orchard Road got a penalty early in the second half, it looked all over for us. The teacher looked despondent, as the opponent stepped up to take the penalty. Thankfully for us, he hit the ball straight at our keeper who hadn’t even moved, and it bounced out to one of our defenders, who pumped the ball up field.

    I seemed to be having a very off day, and the Orchard Road defenders swiftly dealt with all my runs. It seemed like anything I tried was doomed for failure, and it was tough not to let my head drop, and to keep on fighting. Many of the Orchard Road players were almost as big as I was, and a few others were a lot faster. But the thing was that our team just did not give up.

    With just two minutes remaining and the game still without a goal, our midfielder passed the ball straight in between two of Orchard Road’s defenders. Both looked at each other to clear the ball away, and I used this lapse in their concentration to steal the ball and, whilst heading towards the corner flag, I took a shot. At the same time, I fell over, and when I looked towards the goal, I saw nothing except the back of the net rippling, the ball inside it. I heard gasps, and then applause and cheers as what happened hit home.

    Teacher looked as though he could not believe what he had just witnessed. I looked over at Cao Ping, her father sitting next to her, and Xi Ghong a little further along the line of people. He nodded at me, and this was as close to a “congratulations” as I would get from him there. One year previously I had seen some of the goals from the World Cup in Argentina, and how they would celebrate when they scored. Chinese culture did not permit such outbursts, and so I suppressed my happiness, but how I wanted to run over to Cao Ping and dance to celebrate.

    The final two minutes seemed to last forever, but when the whistle blew, there was much relief and celebration. Even the head teacher, Doctor Chao went around thanking everyone for their support and for turning up. He was the one who went up to receive the trophy from the Singapore Education Council. I thought that was very strange, as that was the only game he had turned up to watch.

    I looked over at Cao Ping, to see her being led away by her father – the game was over, so was her involvement. She had been allowed to watch the game, and had seen the goal. That was her allotted time, and now her father took her home. Despite the elation of the victory I was sad and very disappointed; I wanted to talk with her, but I knew that she would be proud of me. Xi Ghong came over to me, leaving just enough space between us so as not to show affection, but his eyes glowed.

    “You have done more than you know today Fu Yun,” he told me. “There are a lot of people who will benefit from this, and Yishun school’s reputation across Singapore will rise.”

    I wondered if anybody’s attitudes would change towards me – if anyone would start to accept me a little more, but I doubted it. I was almost accustomed to the treatment I was getting from the other kids, but I still resented it in a way. It would take me a long time to truly understand it – if at all - but I had no choice but to accept it. It would be a nice change if I was to be treated better by the others, but attitudes are hard to adapt, and both Xi Ghong and Cao Ping would always be able to calm me down and make me see the other side of the story.

    “I am glad that you were there today Xi Ghong,” I said. Xi Ghong did not react at all to that comment, in fact he did not show whether or not he had heard it, but I know he did.

    Singapore is a peninsular that loves football and betting, and the two are often combined with a passion that many outside of Asia just cannot comprehend. A couple of days after the game I learnt that our trainer and head teacher had had a lot of money riding on the games, and that both had won a lot of cash with the bookmakers.

    I was walking along the corridor next to the head teacher’s office, and our trainer was there. They were discussing the game, and so I slowed down to listen – it was hard not to! I overheard the sum of what they had earned via their betting, and it amounted to over one million Singapore dollars. Their discussion now descended upon how much they were going to bet on Yishun School in the next season.

    I felt disgust that the teachers from our school could personally profit from the school success without sharing their fortune. The fact that the head teacher had accepted the trophy without having once attended a game during the normal season just did not seem fair to me. But now I was faced with the dilemma of what to do. I could easily tell Xi Ghong, but what would he say to me? Would he tell me just to ignore it all? Cao Ping seemed like the logical person, but we did not have much time together, and when we did, it was always under surveillance.

    I decided to tell Xi Ghong, knowing that I could be risking my trip to Hong Kong. But my conscience would not allow this to go unchallenged. That evening, after Mei-Lee had cooked us some garlic pork with noodle, Xi Ghong seemed troubled.

    “Once again, Fu Yun, you have something on your mind.”

    I could not believe it – I had told no one about what I had heard at the school. But I stayed quiet for the moment.

    “What you hear is not always good to know. You should not listen to these people – they are bad, but our world is not always full of people solely with good in their heart. There are people who will gladly profit from any situation and some who help them to profit, knowingly or not.”

    This was the first time that I had seen the darker side of Singapore, and Xi Ghong warned me that it was a taste of things to come.

    Before I went to bed that night, Xi Ghong talked to me about Hong Kong.

    “There are a lot of similarities between Singapore and Hong Kong, but also a lot of differences. At heart, we are all Chinese yet we are different in many ways. You will see a lot of things there that will disturb you and you will learn much that will shape your days to come. I know that what you want is to help the Vietnamese there, and your heart is full of good intentions. Do not let yourself be led astray. Do not let bad influences deter you from your path.”

    “Why are people so motivated by money?” I asked.

    “You will one day see for yourself why.” Another cryptic answer from Xi Ghong. Sometimes I wondered why he would occasionally give me a straight answer, and many other times he would leave everything a mystery.

    I knew better than to push Xi Ghong any further, and so I left it. I assumed that as Xi Ghong had been right on most things in the past, this too would turn out to be true.

    In the run up to visiting Hong Kong, I was feeling the excitement fill me from head to toe. I was buzzing, and this would be my very first adventure, my first time away from Singapore without Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee. I would be able to spend some time with Cao Ping. But there was one day left before our trip to Hong Kong, and this day filled me with trepidation – it was the day that we were to receive the results of our examination. In truth, I was dreading receiving the final results.

    When I met Cao Ping at school, there was no other talk than the exams. There was a rumour being spread that even Cao Ping had failed, but there was a little resentment in the class that she talked with the Yang Gway Tzr, and no one really believed the talk.

    Science was the first lesson of the morning, and so we did not have long to wait. The teacher entered the classroom with an unusually stern look upon her face.

    “I am disappointed in this class,” she said. Not so much as a “Good Morning” to us. “Many of you have less than satisfactory results on this, and so you will be retaking this next week. Those who do not return next week will not be welcome back in school next year.”

    My stomach turned as the teacher said this. I was fearing the worst, and even when I looked over at Cao Ping, who was once again sitting next to me, she too seemed very nervous. I was certain that as one of the top students, she would have nothing to fear personally, but I knew how much it meant to her for us to go to Hong Kong together, and if I failed, then there was no way I could go. Cao Ping looked at me, tried to smile and give me encouragement, but I could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

    Teacher handed Cao Ping her test paper, and Cao Ping, nervously, turned the page to the result. A pass. And a good pass at that. She looked very surprised.

    Not for the first time, my paper was the last to be returned. I could not look – my fingers just could not turn the page. I did not need to ask Cao Ping – just my look was sufficient for her to know what I wanted.

    Cao Ping took my paper, and opened it up. Her look told me that our trip to Hong Kong was safe.

    “How did you manage that Fu Yun?”

    I was still in shock, and although I could see the pass mark on the paper, and I heard the words that Cao Ping said, I was speechless. Not only had I passed, I had actually got the best score of all twenty students in class.

    “Fu Yun?” Cao Ping repeated. She had the widest smile on her face.

    Finally I regained my composition and found a way to talk.

    “All of it was your help Cao Ping. You taught me everything there.”

    “But your score is higher than mine. The questions were as hard as they could be. And you made it. I am so proud of you.”

    I smiled almost as broadly as Cao Ping herself.

    The rest of the day was almost as if I spent it in a dream – I remember lunch with Cao Ping, but nothing more. When I got home in the evening, I helped Mei-Lee with the dinner, and waited for Xi Ghong to return. If Mei-Lee knew about my science test result, she did not let on, and I wanted to tell both her and Xi Ghong at the same time.

    Just before we had our evening meal ready, Xi Ghong arrived, carrying a small package. He placed it on the table, at my place. Did Xi Ghong know about my test already?

    “Tomorrow Fu Yun, you will leave Mei-Lee and myself. It will be your first adventure and I know you will achieve much. You will make a lot of people happy with your help. This book will teach you much about Vietnam and her people.”

    He handed me the parcel and I unwrapped it very carefully, as I had been taught. In the past I would unwrap parcels impatiently, and would always be told not to rush it. This time, I could see Xi Ghong smiling at me, knowing that he had indeed instilled me with at least a little patience, although I am sure that both he and Mei-Lee knew I would never have much of it.

    Inside the front cover, Xi Ghong wrote, “For Fu Yun, may your spirit fly far”. I knew that my spirit needed to travel, and Xi Ghong was helping me in my first flight.

    “Xi Ghong, we got the results of our science test today,” I told him.

    “Yes Fu Yun. Today was a big day for you.”

    “You have heard already?”

    “No.”

    “I came top of the class.”

    Mei-Lee smiled; Xi Ghong looked almost in wonder and disbelief.

    “You have worked hard Fu Yun.”

    “Without Cao Ping, I would have failed. She is the one who made this result.”

    “Luo Xian Sheng will know this,” Xi Ghong told me.

    I could not sleep that night – I was so excited about the trip, and when Xi Ghong had retired to bed, I turned my light on and started reading through the book on Vietnamese history. I was surprised to learn about it’s colonial past, and the many times Vietnam had been conquered over the centuries, about the array and the depth of culture, and of the resilience of the people. I vowed to learn much more whenever I could. I was amazed at the amount of history and culture the Vietnamese had, and wondered why Xi Ghong told me nothing of it until now.

    When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were wild and vivid, but none of them could prepare me for what was ahead.

  • 8 x 4

    200 Metres. A whole new world.

    So finally it happened. Last Wednesday Joanne and I collected the keys to the new place. After bollocksing up the mortgage, and making several mistakes on the way, the bank finally worked out how to do its’ job, and handed over the cash. And on Thursday, I moved in.

    One of my suppliers got me a load of boxes, so I packed as much of the stuff as I could, as Gay Polish Rob, Et and Ralph all headed over for a spot of heavy lifting. Packing the boxes in to the car, driving the 200 metres down the road, and up to the 8th floor of this brand new apartment block.

    8 years of living on the 4th floor are over. I have gone up in the world – and now there is an amazing view of the estuary out to Danshui, as well as the customary view of Da Tun Shan and Yang Ming national park. 2 balconies and great springtime weather join forces to make my morning coffee a most enjoyable affair.

    Whilst waiting for Et and Ralph to arrive, the Polack and I took some stuff in his car. I closed the door – at least, I thought I did – and we drove over. As we returned though, the door was open. Weird. And the cats were nowhere to be seen. I checked inside – cupboards, wardrobes, all over, but no sign of the felines. Etienne and Ralph arrived, and also checked upstairs and also all the way to the basement, but nothing. The kittens had never ventured out before, so anything could have happened. It could have been one mega adventure for them, but I had no idea where they were.

    Most of the stuff was brought over by around 5:30, and as there was an evening football game to play, Polack and I headed in to the pitch for the game. After the game I took the MRT back to Guandu and then the bus to the new place, chucked my dirty football things on the floor, and headed to the old place, hoping to find the babies. They weren’t downstairs in the courtyard, so I went upstairs in to the apartment. Just in case. As I turned on the light, 2 frightened faces appeared from the kitchen – they had been hiding in one of the cabinets (obviously scared of the noise 4 people make, and seeing all the boxes disappear). I was relieved, and gave them both a big cuddle before packing them in to their box for the short walk to the new home.

    As we got in to the new place, I opened up the box. 2 kittens looked out, but move they did not. No – much safer inside the box. Ginge looked like he wanted to come out, but Grace was not budging. So I waited, and after a few minutes they ventured out, still frightened, but curious as to where the heck they were.

    The following day the fridge and washing machine were delivered, and the water heater arrived the day after that. All I need now is some more furniture, and some additional space in the kitchen for the appliances. There is nowhere for my rice cooker to go, nowhere for my blender. But the smell of the brand new pad, the view, and all the good things make up for these minor setbacks. And as soon as I get a job that pays me some wonga, we’ll be back on track! Until then, those relaxing morning coffees with the balcony doors open and the fresh air coming in will be totally enjoyed!

    But the elevator keeps stopping on the 4th floor. I haven't got the hang yet of hitting the right floor button in the elevator. Maybe I will work it out soon!

  • Floating Cloud Chapter 1

    I guess it was always obvious to me that I was different from everyone else around me. Seeing my reflection in the mirror and comparing it to my adoptive father and mother, as well as my adoptive sisters when they visited, I was the only one with blue, oval-shaped eyes, the only one who had brown hair, the only one with pale skin.

    It is hard for a child in Chinese society to grow up that different, hard for a child to realise that being different means being special. As a young child all I wanted was just to fit in with the other children and be accepted by them, not be shunned for being different. But I was special in a way, although I never knew it until I first set eyes on Cao Ping. However, the intermingling of her life and mine does not start early enough for me to have realised that. Looking back, in fact, I could not have met her at a better time in my life.

    My biological father was one of those men who made his millions in Raffles City. Singapore - home of the rich colonialists, home of the white colonial millionaires. Not that I knew – or wanted to know - much about him, nor about his money. He had already run off by the time I was born. Run off with the maid from Indonesia. He had already sold his millionaire soul for his sexual desires, my mother losing her grace, as well as her figure with the unwanted pregnancy that she refused to terminate. Today, when I look at the photos of her before my father impregnated her with me, I see a beautiful woman, with a figure that would put the likes of Marilyn Monroe or Grace Kelly to shame. An object of desire without doubt, that is, until I came around.

    So I was the cause of my father running away with his whore, but that was nothing compared with the fact that my mother died after having given birth to me. She lost too much blood in her caesarean operation, and never recovered. She lost consciousness, and never awoke to even see me. Was it the stress of thinking she had to bring up a child alone that caused her to die? Did she give up the fight to live, knowing that it would shame not only her family, but also that of her husband? It was certainly unacceptable in Singaporean society for a young English woman to be seen raising a child whilst her husband was sleeping with the maid, and that last part was pretty much common knowledge throughout the ex-pat community. Either way, my own feelings of guilt have never really diminished, neither for her death, nor for my father running away like a coward, and also not for the break-up of what appeared outwardly to be the perfect marriage.

    My father found out about my mother’s death, but only three weeks after she had died. By that time her ashes had already been scattered in the gardens of Mount Vernon crematorium. The official story was that he had business matters to attend to in India although everyone knew that he had taken HER with him. Hardly anyone bothered turning up for the funeral service, just a sprinkling of friends and Xi Ghong, the butler who had been in my father’s service for eighteen years. Wonderful Xi Ghong, masterful, the man who was to become my adoptive father!

    My father found him in 1950, destitute, and with his wife expecting their third child. They had already decided that there were to be no more children after this one. Having had two girls was considered a failure, and this was his wife, Mei-Lee’s last chance to have a child, as she was nearing the end of her childbearing years. Please be a boy, they prayed. Please. Living in the slums of Singapore’s Chinatown with no job and no money, but a considerable love and respect for one another that my true parents never had. My mother maybe, but my father? Not at all.

    My father had found him in the docks, contemplating taking his life, and in a show of emotion which Xi Ghong would always remember, my father gave him, Mei-Lee, their two daughters and the unborn baby not only a roof over their heads, but also hope for the future. A young millionaire, rebelling against his father’s wishes, knowing that no matter what he did, it mattered nothing. His father was about to die anyway, a scar left from the Japanese invasion, a bullet in the spine as he was returning to help his wife. Many long years of pain as the bullet worked its way deeper into his spine, slowly paralysing him, causing him agony, sleepless nights and yet more agony. Doctors could not operate for fear of totally paralysing him, and when it was too late anyway, it made precious little difference. Finally he became too weak to eat, but not too weak to give my father one last lecture on what was right and what was wrong. His own butler, brought in from England in 1932 was fine. Why not keep him on? "You can’t trust a foreigner my lad."

    Yet was he not the foreigner? Are we not all foreigners, no matter where we are? Was my grandfather’s own son not foreign? He wasn’t born on the green island of His Majesty's colonial Britain, thousands of miles back west, the other side of India, and then some. No, the son of an opium merchant was born on this humid peninsular off the tip of Malaysia. A foreigner for a son, but no one saw him that way. He was the son of the almighty George Mason who knew no fear, who would defeat raiding parties of the Portuguese and French opium dealers, handing out his own form of justice – a bullet through the head. How ironic that he himself was dying from a bullet that had been inside his body for years.

    Christopher Mason had married Isabelle Charles, a beautiful young woman, seven years his junior in the spring of 1961 after many a year of womanising. Many took it to be a sign of his maturity that he had finally found the right one, and the wedding was another one of those high-profile events, the press all over them, flashes of light in the Orchid Gardens where the happy couple posed for photographs.

    But the womanising continued – it just took a different form to before, and when Nutsara entered the household as maid, my father could not keep his hands off her, nor his so-called private parts out of her. On my mother’s nights at the bridge club, he would use the time alone to take his whore to the bed where my mother would lie, just minutes later. Xi Ghong would be given the night off, and although he knew what was going on, his lips would be sealed for eternity. A matter of honour – he owed his entire existence solely to my father, and that is why, several years later I was burdened upon him. Everything is a question of honour in this culture.

    When, at the age of seven, I asked Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee why my father did not want me, they looked at each other knowingly, as if they had rehearsed exactly this conversation many, many times. Xi Ghong led me to the garden in the courtyard downstairs from our apartment, with the pond full of golden koi fish in the middle, and told me the story.

    “Your father is a good man,” he told me. “His job takes him all around the world, and he cannot look after you.”

    It was only much later that I found out just how much Xi Ghong was being paid to father me, to keep quiet.

    “But why have I never seen him?”

    “He is a busy man, and thinks it would only hurt you if you saw him on the few occasions he can afford.”

    Some years later, when I recalled this conversation, I remember thinking how much of a coward he was, running away from me. Surely at the same time, he was running away from the memory of his wife? Was I not all he had left from his marriage? He did not care about that. I figured that if he did not want me, then it was his loss, not mine. Maybe I could use the information to my advantage, but Xi Ghong brought me up better than that. I did not realise at that time that Xi Ghong was so much better off financially because of me.

    Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee looked after me well, but from an early age, I noticed that I was not being treated as one of their own children, although their youngest – they did not manage to have their wish of a son - was 19, and about to leave the house to study in California. The physical differences, the fact that I grew up quicker than all the other children my age, all pointers to a child who was “yang gway tzr” – a foreign ghost, living in the Chinese part of the peninsular. I heard this phrase whispered so many times in my early youth, and grew up to despise it. How could they say I was foreign? I was also born here.

    I was not given a family name, and so my name was limited to two characters – Fu Yun, Floating Cloud. Being different to all the other children was something I just had to get used to. Pointing fingers and whispers were the norm, and from a very early age.

    Despite being a Caucasian, Xi Ghong and Mei-Lee brought me up in the Chinese tradition, and so I went to kindergarten in Chinatown, which is where I met Cao Ping. We would play together, kicking balls, rolling hoops, laughing and enjoying splashing in the puddles of the warm afternoon showers that rainy season in Singapore would bring. Great days, days where going home to Xi Ghong would seem miles away in the morning, but would always come around way too quickly. Cao Ping was the only one, even at that age, who did not discriminate between the obvious differences between a Caucasian and a Chinese Asian. Although there were many Caucasians in Singapore, the racial intermingling that Singapore is famous for is not all it seems.

    I was given responsibilities from a very early age, clearing the table after dinner from the age of four, making sure that I poured Xi Ghong (he would not allow me to call him Baba, like every other child called their father, nor did Mei-Lee allow me to call her Mama) a whisky each night, imported Scotch whisky, nothing but the best for him. He had listened to my father’s tips on where to invest his money, my father had looked after him well, and he had made several hundred thousand Singapore Dollars in profit, and become, because of it, more like my true father than he would ever have liked to admit. He had also invested much of the one thousand Singapore Dollars that my father gave him each month for looking after me, money for him to keep quiet, money that changed the man.

    So once the table had been cleared, and Xi Ghong had received his whisky (if I spilled even one drop, I would get beaten, and the first days of it, I lived in terror of the leather belt holding up his trousers), it was time for bed. I was, in one way maybe, lucky as being “yang gway tzr” I was given a bedroom of my own. Most children had to sleep in the same room as their parents or share with one another, but not me. I liked it that way too, as it gave me time to talk to my imaginary friends, and most of all to Cao Ping.

    I would tell her in the morning what I had told her the night before in my imaginary conversations, she would always listen, and smile back at me. Her answers in my imaginary conversations were almost identical to the ones she would give me the next day – we knew each other so well, even at that tender age. When I look at the picture of us taken in our first year in kindergarten, Cao Ping and me holding hands, I realise that was when we started to fall in love, although no one could have seen it then. She was also beaten as a child, a girl when her parents wanted a boy. She was a disappointment to her family, although her parents tried hard not to show it. Cao Ping’s mother was told she would probably never have a baby, and so when she became pregnant in 1967, they spent as much time as possible at the temple, praying for it to be a son. They blamed the fact that it was a girl on them both going to the temple at the same time – a basic spiritual error, but one that was punished fully. The gods certainly did not smile on them this time round.

    One day, when we were talking about how much our parents beat us, and how we didn’t understand why, we noticed our teacher looking at us, observing us. We started to whisper. We got a beating from the teacher because of that, and then, when I got home that evening, the story was already there, and there was a repeat performance. Cao Ping, in that respect, was lucky as her father was in Kuala Lumpur on business and so escaped an additional belting. After that, we made sure that our teacher was not around when we talked about that subject. It certainly didn’t take us long to learn that lesson.

    Cao Ping was born on the same day as me; both of us liked that coincidence and we would sometimes share birthday parties together. It was good for me, as it was one of the only times when other children at school would actually talk to me. A very rare treat. Cao Ping was more popular, although she would spend more time with me than anyone else. On our fourth birthdays, Xi Ghong gave both of us a present, a jade monkey pendant on a silver chain – we were born in the Year of the Monkey. We were both amazed, but Xi Ghong was a clever man, very astute, and he knew that we would be friends forever. Both Cao Ping and I were as excited as only a child can be to receive such a present, although Cao Ping’s father was not happy that she even talked to me. Still, he accepted it, for the time being.

    Since the age of four, I have never been parted from the jade monkey – it is the symbol of my eternal feelings for Cao Ping and nothing would take it away from my possession, although I have had to replace the chain twice, the first time being when I grew too much, and the second...well, that comes later.

    After kindergarten, at the age of six, we were sent to the same school. It took some doing, as Cao Ping’s father did not like the fact that we were friends and did not want us to be together – it was bad enough that he had a daughter, but for this daughter to be associated with a yang gway tzr was – in his mind - totally unacceptable. But with a lot of luck, we found out where Cao Ping’s father was going to send her to school. Cao Ping listened in to her parents talking whilst she was cleaning vegetables for dinner, but trying hard to concentrate more on the subject of the conversation than on her chores. The next day at kindergarten, she was excited - she had successfully accomplished her first mission as a spy, and told me that she was being sent to Yishun. It then fell on me, at six, to persuade Xi Ghong that I also had to go there. Even at that early age, I knew that I could not just go and ask him out straight. I had to find a back door, weave a trail that he could not follow, and find out the information without him becoming suspicious. And that was certainly not easy with a man like Xi Ghong – he seemed to have a way of knowing what I wanted, even before I opened my mouth to talk.

    So whilst we were eating our chicken, rice and vegetables one evening, I asked him why I couldn’t stay at kindergarten – after all, I liked it there. Why, if you like something, do you have to change it? Xi Ghong looked at me with his very stern face and I thought he had already looked inside my head, and seen through what I wanted to really ask him.

    “We all have to do things we don’t want,” he said, very dryly. “It’s just a matter of honour and accepting that some things are out of our control.”

    Honour? School? It was the first time that I had heard this word used for this, and I had no idea what he meant by it.

    “What does going to school have to do with honour?” I asked.

    Xi Ghong explained, between mouthfuls, that I have to learn hard, become responsible and honour him. He has looked after me, he will show me the ways of the world, and then I will owe him. I will be expected to look after him, if he ever needs me, most likely in his old age, especially as his own children were not likely to be around.

    For a child the age of six, this kind of conversation was not easy.

    “Do you look after your parents?”

    “My parents are dead”

    “What about Mei-Lee’s?”

    “They are her responsibility.”

    “But we never see them.”

    “They are in Shanghai.”

    “Where’s Shanghai?” I was losing the conversation, but I still knew that I had to talk, keep asking questions, keep making sure I got answers.

    “Long way away.”

    “It’s on the mainland,” said Mei-Lee. Usually she would say nothing at the dinner table, and Xi Ghong - for an instant - looked totally surprised.

    “Malaysia?” I asked. That, as far as I knew, was the mainland.

    “China.”

    I had heard of China, had heard that there were things going on there that I did not understand, had heard the name Mao Tse Tung, but I had no idea that the two were related, nor where China was. I had never been able to understand the difference between China and Singapore, nor why people would call it Chinatown, when it was in the middle of Singapore. Wasn’t China big enough to hold all its people? But I had to get the conversation back on tracks.

    “So I will go to school and work hard to make good my honour to you both?” I asked, still completely uncertain of what this all had to do with honour.

    “Yes”

    Mei-Lee answered my question for me, without me needing to ask.

    “We’re sending you to the school in Yishun where you can learn hard – the school is very good.”

    I tried so hard to suppress the smile that was welling up inside me.

    “Don’t let us down,” threatened Xi Ghong in a way that was more serious than I had ever seen before. Even when he had beaten me with his belt, I had not seen him like that. Only later did I find out that he had used his own influence to get me a place at Yishun, to make sure that I would study hard. He also wanted to know where Cao Ping was going – he figured that if I had the motivation of being with my one and only friend, I would study harder. He was without doubt right on that one.

    Cao Ping and I started to go to school in Yishun, and would meet each other at the bus stop near to Cao Ping’s home each morning. Our happiness at being able to be together was unsurpassable for children of six. The threat loomed large over me, though, to make sure that I made the grades that I worked hard and kept in line. I was the first “yang gway tzr” to be accepted to Yishun – not that we were not wanted, just that most foreigners went to school at the special schools for foreigners. Of course, the fact that many of the classes were taught in Mandarin meant that Caucasians would hardly apply for a place in the school. But I wasn’t a “yang gway tzr” like they all wanted to think. I was one of them, although I did not fit in there, not with them. Only when we played football on Wednesday afternoons was I in any way a part of them. I loved to play, and made the school team as striker. Xi Ghong, when told of the news (again it had reached him by the time I had got home), was especially happy. He even came to watch one or two games, although when the other children went to their parents, they would be shown some kind of affection, and get encouragement from them. Not me. A very dry smile was all that I got from Xi Ghong. Even if I had scored the winning goal, he would not afford me more than that.

    Cao Ping though always said how proud she was of me, no matter what. By the time we were eight, we had both done well at Yishun, and she was top of the class, I was fifth. She excelled at maths and science, and would always help me if I could not understand the teacher’s explanations. She would without fail understand from the beginning, and know exactly what was meant. I could not grasp science, but Cao Ping’s help ensured that I got the grade I needed, just.

    I would help her with English, as I could grasp the language a lot easier than she could – perhaps there was more Caucasian mentality inside me than I had ever realised - but the highlight of the week for me was the sports lessons on the Wednesday. At that time, the girls would take gym class, and the boys would play football. I was always the focus of attention for the other children’s hard tackles, but would always score goals, no matter how hard they all tried to stop me. I was bigger and stronger than all of them, and also a lot quicker. Even so I would always lay the ball to the smallest member of my team, to keep him involved. He was about twenty centimetres smaller than the next smallest boy, and did not run around like the rest of us. No one else would pass the ball to him, and he hardly ever managed to control it.

    One time, he tried to pass the ball back to me, miskicked it, and the ball flew into the net. He was an instant hero. How he smiled, and how popular he was. He would not stop talking about the goal for weeks, despite the fact that he did not score another afterwards. The other children loved him for it, and I was jealous. Why could they not accept me like that?

    It felt strange to have a common nationality, to be one of them, but not to be accepted by them. Were they resentful of the colonialists? If that was the reason I was not accepted, then why? Was it not the colonialists who had made Singapore what it was? Whatever reason the other children had for not accepting me it made no difference – in a way I was used to it by now. In my opinion, it was just very strange for the children to be nice to me when we were on the football field, but as soon as the game was over, so were their pleasantries to me.

    By the time we were ten, Cao Ping had received the student of the year award three times. She had made her parents very happy, and they invited all her friends over for a party to celebrate this. I was not invited, despite Cao Ping’s protests. Her parents did not realise that they could not break us up, not then, not two good friends like us.

    Half way through the party, she sneaked out and came to see me at Xi Ghong’s home. We talked a while, before she went back to her party. When she returned her parents were so angry that she had left without saying anything, that she could go and see me instead of being there for her own party. It was to celebrate her achievements at school, and there she was, leaving without a word. And to see that “yang gway tzr”. Oh, the shame of it all. Cao Ping was, according to her parents, the source of all her mother’s pain and anguish, and she was beaten once more for this episode.

    “If you had invited him, it would not have happened,” she argued, only to get another two lashes of the belt.

    “Don’t talk back to your father,” her mother said, holding her head as if really in pain. Cao Ping always thought that this was a show, just to give her and her father an excuse to beat her some more.

    When Cao Ping told me this the next day at school, I was so angry. I wanted to go to her parents and tell them to leave her alone. She should be able to choose who she is friends with. Cao Ping cooled me down, made me realise that if I went to them it meant the end of us, that they would take her out of Yishun and move her some place away. There had even been threats of sending her to school in Malaysia. So I kept quiet, realising that I was powerless against the might of her parents.

    One night I dreamt that Cao Ping sailed away from me – her mother and father were smiling, I was trying to get to her, but her parents were keeping me held back. I tried desperately to break through their hold, but it was too late, the boat sailed away, and I was left sobbing at the harbour, her parents walking away, smiling and rubbing their hands as though they had just got rid of all their problems.

    That nightmare was one that I was always aware of, although it did not return to haunt me. However I had no idea at that moment of just how close to the truth it was going to be in the future.

  • Novel Idea

    I've been toying with this for some time. Since finishing my novel almost 4 years ago - make that OVER 4 years ago - I have gone absolutely nowhere with finding a publisher. Only one or two agents or publishers have actually read it, and although I was offered a self publishing deal some time ago, the only person who would have made money from that venture would have been the self publishing company. That's money for nothing!

    So I have decided to serialise it in the blog - with intermittent stories and updates as to what things are happening in my life (and there are lots of those...) - on a regular basis. I am no longer thinking that there is a publisher out there interested in paying me massive amounts of wonga for the privilege of printing and distributing my novel... but I think it is a story that should be told, and if there are any people who want to read it, then here it is.

    A little background first though - the novel is completely fictional. The idea first came to me when I was living in Germany, and I read a book called No Tears for Mao. It is a touching book, showing a negative side to the Cultural Revolution, and unsurprisingly got banned in the People's Republic. Needless to say, I loved it. I read it in German, and then in English, just to make sure I had understood it. As I was working for a Taiwanese company by then, it piqued my interest more in Asia.

    When I then moved to Bavaria, the idea grew and grew, and soon I moved once more, this time to Taiwan, where I decided to actually do something about this idea in my head, and write it down. Having dated a Tibetan girl in the UK whilst living in Bavaria, and given the fact that I live now in the one true Free China, there is a lot of anti-China sentiment in the novel, but it is not only aimed at the PRC. There is criticism of many cultures, including my own.

    Since writing and finishing the novel, I have also become a little more spiritual, and go to the temple on an occasional basis. I like the peaceful aura you get there. I like the calming scent of the incense. And since Kahukura died almost a year ago, I can also get to talk with her there.

    The title of the novel takes after my Chinese name - which was given to me by my good friend Hui-Mei, with whom I alas have no more contact, having lost her details some time ago. But the main character in the novel - Fu Yun (Floating Cloud) - is not based around me or my life.

    I hope you will enjoy it... and if you like it, and don't want to wait for the next installment, let me know and I will forward the complete novel to you!

  • The Motivation Factor

    Before he fired me, my previous boss would try to motivate all staff at the monthly meetings by going on for a couple of hours about how good our products are, what the future of LED lighting is, how much better than GE, Osram and Philips the company was (despite the fact that Philips sells more in a minute than they did in a year) and that everyone should work harder. Of course, not that there would be any rewards, and certainly no thanks for giving up 75% of the day and 50% of the weekend as well. I would leave those meetings deflated, demotivated, and ready to pack it all in. Thankfully before I could find the right vein to slice open with a blunt knife my agony was spared by being canned.

    Somehow he did not work out that perhaps motivation was coupled with incentives. Not the “you work hard and you can keep your job” type of incentive, but more along the lines of CASH MONEY or even time off. However, seeing that the guy has never actually worked for a living, having been bankrolled all through his life, his EQ and inter-personal skills levels are right down there with the lowest of the low. As Etienne this week pointed out to me, the only reason I took the job in the first place was because El Pres was stupid enough to offer me huge amounts of money to get me out of debt. Do I have an issue with no longer being in employment? Nope – as far as I am concerned, it’s mission accomplished.

    In the last few weeks, since fully recovering from the double hernia operation, I have been exercising more – even made it to football training for the first time in 11 months. Despite playing some football, I have not been to training because I have been busy setting up other things, but I have been biking. Initially I did a couple of smaller climbs, just 250 metres up from my home town in to Linkou. I managed it very slowly, but without needing a break, and so I decided to try the mountain closest to my home – Guanyin shan.

    Up I climbed, again slower than perhaps a year ago, but that should be no surprise to anyone. First I headed out towards Bali Port, and then turned left on to the mountain road. There were a couple of people fishing in a pond, the water black and dark, no fish in sight. A little further on – perhaps no more than 300 metres – there is another pond there, where the waters are clear, and the fish in abundance. I was not going to tell the fishermen – the fishes’ secret was safe with me!

    Still not needing a break, I made it to the top, and cruised down the other side. It was a good ride, and so a couple of days later, I tried the tougher side – where I saw an Eastern Marsh Harrier sitting on the top of a tree, just scanning the world around it. It was stunning – looked as though it had just eaten. I wished I had taken my camera with me, but instead had to settle for my own admiration of this stunning bird.

    As I reached the summit I could hear the music of the local KTV, karaoke bar, and approaching slowly I could hear just how bad it was. I’m not exaggerating when I say it was the worst cacophony I have ever heard. One old man and one old woman singing together. When I say together, it can not be guaranteed that they were actually singing the same song. There are some who say that I am a great singer – I get all the right notes. Just perhaps not in the right order. But these two, I honestly believe, weren’t even getting the right notes at all. Not one between them.

    This was all the motivation I needed to get peddling harder and faster to reach the summit, and cruise down the other side, away from the noise, away from the destruction my ears had suffered. Perhaps that is an idea for El Pres’ next monthly meeting. If you don’t work harder, I’ll bring the KTV twins in for a singalong!

  • Avenue de l'Avenir

    2 weeks out of a job and I feel great. I have plans and ideas for the future, and ones that are being backed up by the people I need most to back them up - my potential clients. Having had the foresight to send myself my client contact list before I got canned, I have all the details I need to go in to business. I know the industry, I know the players, I know the products. I have the contacts to sell to... I have a plan!

    Discussions have taken place the last few days, and one of my UK guys will be visiting in a few days time so we can discuss it in greater detail. I may even see some money coming in from it soon... and that will be most welcome given the fact that Aeon messed me around on my last wages. But of course, that too was always going to happen, with the stupid dickwad who entered the company and now believes very firmly that he is God.

    So after some meetings with potential suppliers, I am lining up projects, essentially taking them from the previous employer who seems not to want them any more, and working on them in an independent way. Karma, once more. I looked after the clients, the clients follow me. In the words of one of the clients, they need someone they can trust. And Aeon is not a trustworthy company - that has been proven several times over the last few weeks.

    And even better now, I actually have some free time during the week. Instead of arriving home at 10 PM, I can watch the sun set, I can watch the colours of the evening sky reflecting in the river outside. I can go biking. I have those priceless moments once more where I can relax, not feel the pressure of stupid bosses who think they know things which they really have no idea of.

    With the sun shining again this week, happiness deep down has returned as well. A good feeling about the future is here - whereas just a week or so ago I was wondering if perhaps my stream of ideas had run dry, here comes inspiration once more, and with a vengeance.

    I have also had a chance to spend more time with the kittens, Grace and Ginge. The colder weather has also made them more cuddly, and Grace is especially affectionate, sleeping on my legs as I am on the computer. Ginge likes to sleep next to me on the couch, upside down, purring away. You can look at life in a positive or negative way - but why look at the clouds when there is blue sky behind them?

    And as my good friend Dave knows... I don't allow such things to affect my positivity!

  • Instant Karma

    I guess it can come in all forms, but it does. Karma. Having perhaps not shown the proper respect to Claire in the break up, I was unceremoniously dumped out of Aeon, which I had seen coming for some time, but the way it was done and the timing of it were absolutely despicable. Perhaps I deserved it.

    The company is now sending mails to clients, saying I had broken rules, sent out documents that were not authorised, and agreed to pricing and commitments and business strategies that were against company regulations. All of which is a load of carp. I had indeed bent some rules, but none of those ones. Still, being a little local company, they had to go out and make sure the foreigner loses some face. Typical. None of the clients actually believe what Aeon is saying anyway, and the new sales manager is doing his best to let the people inside the company know I was on the take. As if anyone there would believe it. But this is all par for the course for a company that will take people on, use them, then fire them when they want to, for whatever reason. I knew that when I started - having to fire 2 people and take over from them. That is how it started, that is how it ended. Of course, now they have about 30 or so new clients to look after.

    Of course, the fact that Chinese New Year is coming up means that it is a tough time to be looking for a job. But it does not stop me - I will not let it affect my positivity. I have made some applications to various positions, although nothing yet has come from them. I was a little depressed on Friday, but today sees renewed optimism.

    And people who ask me if I hold any grudges? No - I don't. Do I still believe in their products? I tell all of my former clients that the products I was actively promoting then, I would still actively promote now.

    In the words of Michael Corleone - it's not personal. It's only business.

  • Exceptional Rules

    I inadvertently joked that 2009 started for me with a cat and a girlfriend, and ended with 2 cats and 2 girlfriends. Neither of those feats were planned – like much of my life, no matter what I did, or how much I thought I was in control of things, I was reminded that I am a mere pawn in this chess game.

    So what happened? Well, Joanne re-entered my life in October, and we chatted a little on MSN for a few weeks, and she was totally aware that I was dating, and that Claire and I were serious about each other. After having talked for several weeks though, she asked if I wanted to maybe go out for a drink or something. I was not sure – to be honest, although I wanted closure from our relationship before, I did not know how I would react to seeing her again. After some deliberation though, I agreed, and the date got rearranged a couple of times, and ended up being in December.

    I arrived at the restaurant and she was there already – tardiness seems to be my friend at the moment, thanks to not getting out of work at a decent hour! – and I sat down opposite her. At that point we just carried on from where we had left off, three years previously, and talked through the break up, talked through the future, talked about my relationship. It was a pleasant evening, and we agreed to go out again after she got back from her business trip to Philippines.

    Just before Christmas we got together once more, and had dinner, and it was at this point where we both realized perhaps that there was more to this than just friendship. Magic was there, sparks were there. Those old feelings, the chemistry… they never died per se, they just got hidden in a box, in a cupboard, locked away, but together, somehow, we re-opened the cupboard, took the lid off the box, and that was it. We had reached the point of no return.

    We talked about how things could be between us we talked about IF we got back together then would she run away again? Could I trust her again? Would I be out for revenge? Take her back in to my life and play her? Were we going to deny the depth of emotions, the magic between us? How could we ignore the fact that despite (and perhaps even because of) everything that had happened over the last 5 years, we still essentially love and adore each other?

    I knew though that I had a decision to make – and very soon. Because of the deal with the new house, because I did not want to play anyone around. Joanne said I should take my time – she understood it. But the decision was the easiest one – the difficult bit was how to tell Claire. And this was made more difficult – yet at the same time easier – by the passing away of Claire’s father.

    Claire then spent time with her family, which gave me time to spend with Joanne. Insensitive? Perhaps. Selfish? Definitely. But you have to remember in matters of the heart, you have to follow what you feel is right. Before Joanne came back in to my life, things were fine between Claire and me, but that one thing changed it all. Right down to the last detail, and I could not deny that my heart had never truly fallen out of love with Joanne.

    So a week ago it all came to a head – I had asked the apartment company to change the name of the owner, and they inadvertently spilled the beans. To not go in to too fine a detail, I had to bring forward the day of telling Claire – I had planned to do it at the weekend, but this was no longer possible. My timing – as usual – was terrible, but I told her the truth – that I love Joanne. I am truly sorry for breaking her heart, and for misusing her trust in me. It was not the way I am generally.

    But in usual form, I am looking towards the future now with renewed optimism – Joanne and I are happy together, and my heart is happier than it has ever been, even before. It was a chance I could not let up, and one I grabbed with both hands. It reminded me of something I once heard…

    Love is like a bird. Let it out of the cage… you have to set it free. If the bird comes back to you, then it’s yours forever. If it doesn’t come back, then it was never yours.