Rooster Alarm
Towards the Sunset, Beneath the Snow
Written By: Michele Hii
“COOKADOOOOO!!!” the sound of a familiarly annoying bird shock
me from my peaceful sleep. The last thing I remember was Grandma entering in my
room to switch off the air conditioner. It was 3am and her slippers that
brushed against the tile floor alerted me from Slumberland. So much for a typical Asian mind for being cheap. And then a freaking
rooster from next door woke me up two hours later. In my head, I was begging
God to give me at least another two hours of sleep so that I can be refreshed
from my still-happening jet lag. I arrived back in Malaysia a few weeks ago and
I was still as sleepy as ever. I'm not surprised at that.
Sibu, Sarawak was the place where my parents were
born. I remember coming here every Chinese New Year. But after I moved to
British Columbia in August 2011, I only managed to go back once every two
years. I was a little ball of sunshine who was excited of living with my
grandparents for the traditional Chinese holiday. I even didn’t mind of a coop
of roosters to wake me up at 6am and to greet my grandparents with a fresh
morning grin. But at this moment, I was really annoyed at that bunch of wacky creatures.
I finally got out of bed at 7:30am and after I got dressed, I noticed that my grandpa and aunt Emily were gone. The only person who lingered around the kitchen was my grandma. I watched for a few seconds as her small, bony figure walked gingerly and her short black curls stayed in place motionlessly as if she had applied hair gel on. "Ah, Michele! Ni Qi Sheng Le! (You're finally awake)" she greeted with a smile. It was a pity that she couldn't speak English, and so was my grandpa. I couldn't speak fluent Mandarin. So we had this minor language barrier standing in between.
"Lai! Chi Zao Chan! (Come! Eat your breakfast!)" my grandma said as she pointed one finger at a bowl of white thin noodles. A big pot of chicken soup was on the stove. It had been two or three years since I had this traditional Foo Chow dish. I walked to the corner of the kitchen and poured a ladleful of the yellowish-orange soup into my bowl. Even though Grandma suffered from Alzheimer's, she still continue on with her usual chores and all the cooking. She carried a curious, innocent attitude. And sometimes she gets on my nerves, but she's still an irreplaceable member of the family.
Speaking of nerves, she had to repeatedly asking the same questions. I find it adorable, but she wouldn't stop asking until my patience meter went boiling with lava. Still, I didn't show my short-tempered disguise. She just couldn't help it. I knew that she hadn't seen me for a long time and so she wanted to spend time with me. It's just that I had plans on my own and I had some old friends to catch up. I would spill my upcoming hangouts to my grandma so that I can remind her that I won't be staying at home for meals, but she would ask me two or three times on what would I be doing in the next few hours. One time, I reminded her that I would be going out for my last lunch of my stay with a friend of my mother's. Grandma hesitantly asked me again a few moments later and she even cooked extras for lunch. It was noon and Auntie Jenny still hadn't showed up. Grandma suggested that I should eat lunch at home instead and cancel the lunch date. Of course I wouldn't want to do that because it was my last day and I couldn't just drop one last opportunity to see my long-time-no-see family friend! That moment made me feel like I was in prison. I wanted to get out of there. Auntie Jenny came to my rescue fifteen minutes later. Her thick black eye-shadowed eyes were covered by a pair of black shades. Her ruby lipsticked smile reminded me of a goddess. I was relieved when I got into her Landcruiser. It was like collapsing onto a cloud in safe haven.
That last afternoon took my mind off my silent fury with my grandma. I smiled when I was all ears with Auntie Jenny's entertaining stories. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with a tint of excitement when she told me about her son who made her a birthday card. His last sentence caught my heart which was, "I'll be a person who fear God". In my head, I pictured her shedding tears of joy after she read the card and her tall and handsome Daniel smiled beside her. She was blessed to have such a child who had strong faith! Despite the heavy traffic on a typical Friday afternoon, we had lunch at a cafe called Junction. Auntie Jenny was like a food psychic. She gave good recommendation on the best food in town, especially the lamb chop dish we had that day. My soul was satisfied as boluses of the chewed lamb chop traveled through my oesophagus and to my stomach, like honey lemon tea that cured a sore throat.
And did I mention that she introduced to the best Kam Pua noodles ever? It was two days ago when we first reunited. She took me to this famous coffee shop (you should know that I'm not good with Chinese names, especially shops). The iced Milo that I ordered helped to cool my dry throat in that viciously hot weather. And then, a big bowl of noodle soup and two plates of Kam Pua noodles were presented before me. I was like "Am I gonna eat all this??" Auntie Jenny shared me a small bowl of her noodle soup while I joyously ate the two freshly-cooked yellow noodles with crispy brown chopped onions and perfectly-drizzled seasoning. My conscience was warning me not to overeat due to my vow of being on a diet, but I didn't care. I was there in Sibu eating dishes of my childhood, and that's that.
One thing that surprised me was her first impression about me. Before we met in person, I got her phone number from my younger sister Megan. As I called her, I could imagine her wearing a thrilled face. Her voice was as jovial as a lark. And then, as I first got into her car, she commented that I "have a great voice". At first, I thought she was playing around. I never thought myself as a person with a loud, clear voice. In my whole life, I describe myself as a person who is a major loser in verbal communication. I would give a bad first impression to anyone I meet, including with my incredibly introvert personality. But to Auntie Jenny, she saw me in a whole different light, like finding missing pieces of a puzzle. "When you first called me, you have this authority-like voice. It's like you can give speeches to children's camps." she said. I was like...did she go to a club before this because I don't think I can be a motivational speaker! Yet through her promising smile, I realized that she wasn't joking at all.
The Landcruiser stopped at a corner of Methodist Secondary School as Auntie Jenny was to pick up her daughter Natasha. Snap! I haven't seen her two kids in years! Auntie Jenny pointed at one of the girls who was camouflaged in a crowd of students. They were all wearing the same school uniform (white shirts and light blue pinafores) so I couldn't tell which was the princess she was pointing. Finally, out of the blue, a six-plus-feet-tall girl with a high ponytail swinging from the back of her head strutted to the car. Her face was still the same, but she looked so mature.
After that, we stopped over at her place to rest for a short while. The conversation continues when she asked me the program I major in college. As I answered "Creative Writing", her mouth dropped open.
"No wonder you have a great voice!" she exclaimed.
"Uh...I don't think so." I hesitated.
"No, really! You can be a writer AND a speaker!" she argued in a friendly way, "You see, you have such a rare gift! Not many people have this kind of talent! Like I say, you can give speeches to a lot of children."
I don't think I can smell beer around her or anywhere in this house.
Our conversation deepened when we ate her homemade kiwi Jell-O. Spoiler alert: her Jell-O was amazing!
"So why do you want to major in this program?" she asked.
"Because I love to write, and I want to share inspirational stories to other people." I replied, "Just like this book." I had taken out my favourite book which was called Chicken Soup for the Soul: Inspiration for Writers and put it on the dining table. I handed her my book and she examined the white cover, fascinated.
"You know, my daughter needs to learn from you. She needs to improve her English." she said, "So I was wondering whether you can introduce her to some books like this."
It got me excited because I'd always wanted to recommend something to other people. Natasha came downstairs, just in time for me to talk. She sat opposite me at the table with one kiwi Jell-O on a fork in her hand.
"Natasha," I started, "Do you like to read books?"
"No." she said. Straight forward.
"Then I think you should start reading Chicken Soup for the Soul. This book series will help you to improve your English, I promise you!"
Natasha looked a little reluctant. But I smiled and held my book facing her.
"This is my favourite book. It has a lot of inspirational stories from all sorts of people." And then, I read the last few paragraphs of my favourite story from the book called "It's a Poem" by Raymond P. Weaver. I first summarized the story to Natasha and Auntie Jenny, about how Raymond himself encountered a dying patient who has the heart to regain her poetry skills and she inspired Raymond to finish his novel. As I read the part when Raymond helped the patient to submit her last poem and it had won a poetry contest, I realized that there is always "someone who will inspire me to write until my dying day". I also asked for a piece of paper and a pen to write down several Chicken Soup for the Soul titles for Natasha (and Auntie Jenny) to read. Teen-related titles for Natasha (Chicken Soup for the Soul: Just For Teenagers, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Teens Talk) and spiritual or faith-related titles for Auntie Jenny (Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miracles Happen, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Angels Among Us). After I wrote down the titles, I felt privileged for speaking to someone about something I love to share.
Visiting my grandparents and my old family friend wasn't the only reasons why I returned to Sibu. Three years ago, I studied in the bustling city of Subang Jaya in Kuala Lumpur. I lived in a house for girls who went to the same church, and I shared a room with a girl named Jasmine. Let's just say we both had some misunderstanding with certain things while living together. We hardly talked for a few months which got me upset because I had a feeling that she still hated me. But after moments of distraction from further studies and blending with saints from the other side of earth, Jasmine and I talked and forgave each other.
We managed to meet up on a Thursday during my stay in Sibu. She was really happy to see me. Her gentle-face mother drove us to a famous dim sum restaurant for breakfast. I was glad that we sat in an air-conditioned room because the weather was just way too hot, like the sun was being a little too hot-tempered. That morning was a blast. I ate so much that my stomach was exhaling hard to hold for a little more space. I grinned like a Chesire cat when Jasmine received a key chain and some Reese chocolates I bought from Vancouver gratefully. There's nothing even better than reuniting with old friends.
I kind of regret myself for not extending my stay, because I didn't know that there are still people who I haven't met for so long and I only manage to reunite with them once. Jasmine invited me over for a church meeting at her house during my last night. I had brought a big, rectangular container filled with Hari Raya snacks (Eid) and my grandparents couldn't finish them all. So I decided to bring it to the meeting. And here's the interesting thing I saw once I entered into Jasmine's house. The front wall of the living room was blocked by two big cupboards of stuffed dolls! They had this big collection of Hello Kitty dolls and other kinds of dolls which I can't remember now. It was like a museum exhibition! Anyway, Jasmine and I talked about our lives in college and browsed through some hymns. Half an hour later, a group of church saints arrived at her house and one of them caught my attention. A family of three entered through the door with strikingly familiar faces.
"You look familiar!" I said out loud.
The mother looked at me for a few seconds and exclaimed, "Michele?"
"Yes!" And then I realize that they used to go to my church back in Kota Kinabalu.
It has been years since I saw her, her husband, and their beautiful grown-up daughter! I didn't know they had moved to Sibu!
That night, the church sister and I enjoy the meeting and then talked on how great that we finally met again. Even though it was a short meeting, I loved sitting at the dining table with them, eating the snacks and enjoying each other's company. And yes, the Hara Raya snacks I brought were almost finished!
I was out of the house most of the time that I hadn't had more time to spend with my grandparents, and apparently aunt Emily. However, I guess God managed to squeeze in a little bit of my time to hang out with them. One morning, my snore was interrupted by a short series of knocks on my door. I could instantly hear aunt Emily calling my name. I remembered that I was to go to the market with Grandpa. Oh geez...why it has to be so early? It's only 6:49am! I guess "Sarawakians" are early birds.
Grandpa's Toyota Crown was parked at a public parking lot. His eyes were firmly fixed on the road and concentration was reflected through his round, metal-framed spectacles. His old yellowish-white lucky number still ran like a machine, and the seats were surprisingly comfy. We went to this gigantic open-air building called the Central Market, and I must say, it's been a while since I had been to a market. A number of stalls were arranged in complicated rows like a maze and the paths were so narrow that I had to walk sideways. It brought me back to my childhood when the sellers yelled for bargain. An unforgettable moment that I had to jot down was when I saw a stall selling cages of life chickens! Real-life, head-swiveling, curious chickens! Some of them were wrapped in bundles of newspapers and tied in ropes so that they won't move their wings...or bodies. This is just cruel...and awkward at the same time! I wonder whether a customer who buys a life chicken will either slay it to death or to keep it for egg-hatching for money.
Before the church meeting at Jasmine's, Grandma suggested that we should go for a walk since we just ate dinner. I immediately declined because I stubbornly disciplined myself to focus on my novel series. But she sat on my bed and asked me again whether I wanted to go with her. I could feel her eyes pleading even though I didn't look straight in her eyes. You know, just for getting some fresh air. I eventually decided to leave the story behind and put on my black Converse.
"Ni You Mei You Zhou Guo Zhe Tio Lu Ma? (Have you been to this road before?) " Grandma asked.
"Mei You (No)." I replied.
She led me around the neighbourhood. I never knew that there was more besides the grandparents' house that I had been to ever since I was a kid. The houses were pretty much the same:double-storey terrace houses. Some of them were mansions, which I thought they were probably owned by some crazy rich Foochow merchants. Grandma was scanning around to see where her sister-in-law's house was. I was surprised that she still remembered what did it looked like. She finally stopped at a double-storey house where a row of colourful flowers planted in pots and arranged outside the fence. The gates were opened and Grandma called for her sister-in-law. I guess she didn't really forget everything after all. I mean, look at her! She was like a hound, knowing her directions! Shortly, the rest of the sister-in-law's family came out and greeted me with friendly smiles. Guess the stroll wasn't such a bad idea after all.
I guess living in a village was actually a precious experience. The natural alarm of the rooster, Grandma hand-washing the laundry and her traditional Chinese cooking of chicken soup...I wished I could apologize for not standing by to watch or to help her out. I was busy focusing on myself and my plans to meet up with long lost friends. If only I could wish for a plane ticket next year, I could ask for the route to Sibu where Grandma's homemade chicken dishes were waiting for me on the dining table.
That last afternoon took my mind off my silent fury with my grandma. I smiled when I was all ears with Auntie Jenny's entertaining stories. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with a tint of excitement when she told me about her son who made her a birthday card. His last sentence caught my heart which was, "I'll be a person who fear God". In my head, I pictured her shedding tears of joy after she read the card and her tall and handsome Daniel smiled beside her. She was blessed to have such a child who had strong faith! Despite the heavy traffic on a typical Friday afternoon, we had lunch at a cafe called Junction. Auntie Jenny was like a food psychic. She gave good recommendation on the best food in town, especially the lamb chop dish we had that day. My soul was satisfied as boluses of the chewed lamb chop traveled through my oesophagus and to my stomach, like honey lemon tea that cured a sore throat.
And did I mention that she introduced to the best Kam Pua noodles ever? It was two days ago when we first reunited. She took me to this famous coffee shop (you should know that I'm not good with Chinese names, especially shops). The iced Milo that I ordered helped to cool my dry throat in that viciously hot weather. And then, a big bowl of noodle soup and two plates of Kam Pua noodles were presented before me. I was like "Am I gonna eat all this??" Auntie Jenny shared me a small bowl of her noodle soup while I joyously ate the two freshly-cooked yellow noodles with crispy brown chopped onions and perfectly-drizzled seasoning. My conscience was warning me not to overeat due to my vow of being on a diet, but I didn't care. I was there in Sibu eating dishes of my childhood, and that's that.
One thing that surprised me was her first impression about me. Before we met in person, I got her phone number from my younger sister Megan. As I called her, I could imagine her wearing a thrilled face. Her voice was as jovial as a lark. And then, as I first got into her car, she commented that I "have a great voice". At first, I thought she was playing around. I never thought myself as a person with a loud, clear voice. In my whole life, I describe myself as a person who is a major loser in verbal communication. I would give a bad first impression to anyone I meet, including with my incredibly introvert personality. But to Auntie Jenny, she saw me in a whole different light, like finding missing pieces of a puzzle. "When you first called me, you have this authority-like voice. It's like you can give speeches to children's camps." she said. I was like...did she go to a club before this because I don't think I can be a motivational speaker! Yet through her promising smile, I realized that she wasn't joking at all.
The Landcruiser stopped at a corner of Methodist Secondary School as Auntie Jenny was to pick up her daughter Natasha. Snap! I haven't seen her two kids in years! Auntie Jenny pointed at one of the girls who was camouflaged in a crowd of students. They were all wearing the same school uniform (white shirts and light blue pinafores) so I couldn't tell which was the princess she was pointing. Finally, out of the blue, a six-plus-feet-tall girl with a high ponytail swinging from the back of her head strutted to the car. Her face was still the same, but she looked so mature.
After that, we stopped over at her place to rest for a short while. The conversation continues when she asked me the program I major in college. As I answered "Creative Writing", her mouth dropped open.
"No wonder you have a great voice!" she exclaimed.
"Uh...I don't think so." I hesitated.
"No, really! You can be a writer AND a speaker!" she argued in a friendly way, "You see, you have such a rare gift! Not many people have this kind of talent! Like I say, you can give speeches to a lot of children."
I don't think I can smell beer around her or anywhere in this house.
Our conversation deepened when we ate her homemade kiwi Jell-O. Spoiler alert: her Jell-O was amazing!
"So why do you want to major in this program?" she asked.
"Because I love to write, and I want to share inspirational stories to other people." I replied, "Just like this book." I had taken out my favourite book which was called Chicken Soup for the Soul: Inspiration for Writers and put it on the dining table. I handed her my book and she examined the white cover, fascinated.
"You know, my daughter needs to learn from you. She needs to improve her English." she said, "So I was wondering whether you can introduce her to some books like this."
It got me excited because I'd always wanted to recommend something to other people. Natasha came downstairs, just in time for me to talk. She sat opposite me at the table with one kiwi Jell-O on a fork in her hand.
"Natasha," I started, "Do you like to read books?"
"No." she said. Straight forward.
"Then I think you should start reading Chicken Soup for the Soul. This book series will help you to improve your English, I promise you!"
Natasha looked a little reluctant. But I smiled and held my book facing her.
"This is my favourite book. It has a lot of inspirational stories from all sorts of people." And then, I read the last few paragraphs of my favourite story from the book called "It's a Poem" by Raymond P. Weaver. I first summarized the story to Natasha and Auntie Jenny, about how Raymond himself encountered a dying patient who has the heart to regain her poetry skills and she inspired Raymond to finish his novel. As I read the part when Raymond helped the patient to submit her last poem and it had won a poetry contest, I realized that there is always "someone who will inspire me to write until my dying day". I also asked for a piece of paper and a pen to write down several Chicken Soup for the Soul titles for Natasha (and Auntie Jenny) to read. Teen-related titles for Natasha (Chicken Soup for the Soul: Just For Teenagers, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Teens Talk) and spiritual or faith-related titles for Auntie Jenny (Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miracles Happen, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Angels Among Us). After I wrote down the titles, I felt privileged for speaking to someone about something I love to share.
Visiting my grandparents and my old family friend wasn't the only reasons why I returned to Sibu. Three years ago, I studied in the bustling city of Subang Jaya in Kuala Lumpur. I lived in a house for girls who went to the same church, and I shared a room with a girl named Jasmine. Let's just say we both had some misunderstanding with certain things while living together. We hardly talked for a few months which got me upset because I had a feeling that she still hated me. But after moments of distraction from further studies and blending with saints from the other side of earth, Jasmine and I talked and forgave each other.
We managed to meet up on a Thursday during my stay in Sibu. She was really happy to see me. Her gentle-face mother drove us to a famous dim sum restaurant for breakfast. I was glad that we sat in an air-conditioned room because the weather was just way too hot, like the sun was being a little too hot-tempered. That morning was a blast. I ate so much that my stomach was exhaling hard to hold for a little more space. I grinned like a Chesire cat when Jasmine received a key chain and some Reese chocolates I bought from Vancouver gratefully. There's nothing even better than reuniting with old friends.
I kind of regret myself for not extending my stay, because I didn't know that there are still people who I haven't met for so long and I only manage to reunite with them once. Jasmine invited me over for a church meeting at her house during my last night. I had brought a big, rectangular container filled with Hari Raya snacks (Eid) and my grandparents couldn't finish them all. So I decided to bring it to the meeting. And here's the interesting thing I saw once I entered into Jasmine's house. The front wall of the living room was blocked by two big cupboards of stuffed dolls! They had this big collection of Hello Kitty dolls and other kinds of dolls which I can't remember now. It was like a museum exhibition! Anyway, Jasmine and I talked about our lives in college and browsed through some hymns. Half an hour later, a group of church saints arrived at her house and one of them caught my attention. A family of three entered through the door with strikingly familiar faces.
"You look familiar!" I said out loud.
The mother looked at me for a few seconds and exclaimed, "Michele?"
"Yes!" And then I realize that they used to go to my church back in Kota Kinabalu.
It has been years since I saw her, her husband, and their beautiful grown-up daughter! I didn't know they had moved to Sibu!
That night, the church sister and I enjoy the meeting and then talked on how great that we finally met again. Even though it was a short meeting, I loved sitting at the dining table with them, eating the snacks and enjoying each other's company. And yes, the Hara Raya snacks I brought were almost finished!
I was out of the house most of the time that I hadn't had more time to spend with my grandparents, and apparently aunt Emily. However, I guess God managed to squeeze in a little bit of my time to hang out with them. One morning, my snore was interrupted by a short series of knocks on my door. I could instantly hear aunt Emily calling my name. I remembered that I was to go to the market with Grandpa. Oh geez...why it has to be so early? It's only 6:49am! I guess "Sarawakians" are early birds.
Grandpa's Toyota Crown was parked at a public parking lot. His eyes were firmly fixed on the road and concentration was reflected through his round, metal-framed spectacles. His old yellowish-white lucky number still ran like a machine, and the seats were surprisingly comfy. We went to this gigantic open-air building called the Central Market, and I must say, it's been a while since I had been to a market. A number of stalls were arranged in complicated rows like a maze and the paths were so narrow that I had to walk sideways. It brought me back to my childhood when the sellers yelled for bargain. An unforgettable moment that I had to jot down was when I saw a stall selling cages of life chickens! Real-life, head-swiveling, curious chickens! Some of them were wrapped in bundles of newspapers and tied in ropes so that they won't move their wings...or bodies. This is just cruel...and awkward at the same time! I wonder whether a customer who buys a life chicken will either slay it to death or to keep it for egg-hatching for money.
Before the church meeting at Jasmine's, Grandma suggested that we should go for a walk since we just ate dinner. I immediately declined because I stubbornly disciplined myself to focus on my novel series. But she sat on my bed and asked me again whether I wanted to go with her. I could feel her eyes pleading even though I didn't look straight in her eyes. You know, just for getting some fresh air. I eventually decided to leave the story behind and put on my black Converse.
"Ni You Mei You Zhou Guo Zhe Tio Lu Ma? (Have you been to this road before?) " Grandma asked.
"Mei You (No)." I replied.
She led me around the neighbourhood. I never knew that there was more besides the grandparents' house that I had been to ever since I was a kid. The houses were pretty much the same:double-storey terrace houses. Some of them were mansions, which I thought they were probably owned by some crazy rich Foochow merchants. Grandma was scanning around to see where her sister-in-law's house was. I was surprised that she still remembered what did it looked like. She finally stopped at a double-storey house where a row of colourful flowers planted in pots and arranged outside the fence. The gates were opened and Grandma called for her sister-in-law. I guess she didn't really forget everything after all. I mean, look at her! She was like a hound, knowing her directions! Shortly, the rest of the sister-in-law's family came out and greeted me with friendly smiles. Guess the stroll wasn't such a bad idea after all.
I guess living in a village was actually a precious experience. The natural alarm of the rooster, Grandma hand-washing the laundry and her traditional Chinese cooking of chicken soup...I wished I could apologize for not standing by to watch or to help her out. I was busy focusing on myself and my plans to meet up with long lost friends. If only I could wish for a plane ticket next year, I could ask for the route to Sibu where Grandma's homemade chicken dishes were waiting for me on the dining table.
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