A Cheapo Lantern for My Da

From the very day of my Dad’s funeral, I noticed that we needed a candle holder of some sort that also offered wind protection because the candles kept going out. So when I was at IKEA KL at the end of last year, I bought a pair of metal lanterns just for my Dad’s grave site. The lanterns as pictured below are cute. I even picked black ones so that they won’t look too terrible when they begin to rust. There is a holder inside each to fit a single tea light candle. Unfortunately, the lanterns never left the living room to this day. They sit gathering dust. My Mum was worried that people might pinch them. I suggested that we could secure the base of each lantern on the ground in front of my Father’s lot but my Brother was worried that vandals might break them for fun.

We visited my Dad early this month. It was rainy and windy. We encountered the same issue. It was almost impossible to keep the candles alight. After cleaning up the site, presenting the flowers and while the prayers were taking place, an idea drifted into my head. It was probably a present from the Holy Spirit. I felt like I needed to make a lantern and it has to be super cheap and disposable.

When I was at work the next day, I sat eyeing a small bottle of drinking water. The shape of the bottle intrigued me. It occurred to me that the bottle could potentially be turned into a lantern. Because they weren’t any used bottles around, I had to wait till I get home before I could ‘dissect’ one to see if my idea would work. The picture below is my prototype.

My lantern is definitely no way as cute as the lanterns from IKEA but it is functional, disposable and most of all, CHEAP. I simply cut the bottom off the bottle so I could tip it over upside down and then re-inserted it into the bottle’s body. This is done so that there’s a spot for the candles to sit on and no water could be collected. The cemetery people would be happy that I don’t help breed mozzies. Oh, I also cut an opening on the bottle’s body. Later, I realized that the prototype’s size is a problem. It was made out of a 1.5 litre bottle. It may be big enough to house 3-4 candles but my Mum tends to want to light 2 boxes of 6 candles every time to show 孝 心! So, I need to make a bigger lantern. I noticed that some containers for cooking oil might work. The big ones are wider and they usually have a handle at the top for easier transportation. One neighbour might give me her empty bottle but I won’t hold my breath because she now lives on her own and that big bottle of oil will take her ages to finish! Now that my idea is out in the open, I am also pretty sure that someone (annoying) will beat me in my own game by making the big lantern to reap the glory of making something for my Da because his children are apparently too lazy to make one or do anything.

WEIRD Dreams

About two weeks ago, I dreamt that my Mum and I flew back to Melbourne. Upon our arrival at the Tullamarine airport, I got confused because my passport wasn’t stamped. I refused to leave the airport without an answer. When I questioned the immigration officers, the 6 were frosty. One guy said, “There really is nothing you can do about it. You can’t make us do something we don’t want, ma’am.” I was apparently allowed to enter Australia but they were refusing to stamp our passports. Then one lady explained that they simply don’t stamp passports anymore. Still wondering how I could leave Melbourne later, I had wanted to ask more questions but my Mum was in a hurry to get to Victoria Market.

We hopped onto a taxi. We were all chatting away until we got to the road outside the Royal Children’s Hospital in North Melbourne. There, the taxi driver vanished and my Mum just took over the driving like she knew the place very well. We were still heading for the market. I was busy planning in my head, organizing my mental shopping lists for when I get to Target and Big W. When we got to the market, my Mum spent ages circling it looking for an off the street carpark outside because she refused to park inside. Then her phone rang and it was a lady from Tawau calling to say that she was on her way to our house in KK. My Mum drove one more round and announced that we were going back to the airport to catch the next flight home! My whole world crumbled. I was beyond shock. I called out, “What? What about my undies?” The scenery outside the car was somewhere near the Docklands and on the way to Footscray. My Mum asked, “What about what undies?” I said, “My Bonds undies. This is not fair! I don’t want a holiday. I just want to get some Bonds undies.” To that my Mum replied, “Oh! We will get them next time.” I cried until I got up from my sleep.

A few nights ago I found out that Bryce Courtney had passed away. I watched his farewell message and it was sad. It would have been good if my Dad had a farewell message too. Before I went to bed that night, I suddenly thought of a cheeky pony that used to live at a children’s adventure playground in South Melbourne. The naughty pony moved to another place near Bundoora (?) about 10 years ago. I used to walk past him at least once a week when I was on my way home from my sewing lessons nearby. If I stood near the fence, he would come over to stand next to me. I used to call him Smokey because he looked like Prince Harry’s first pony. I never witnessed any of his cheeky nature. To me, he was always handsome and proper, albeit a little compact in size. Anyway, I dreamt that he came to visit me in KK. He was wearing a black leather jacket but I can’t recall if he had his red harness on. In the dream, he walked into our living room and past out in front of my Mum’s sofa. My Mum’s helper looked quite shocked to have opened the front door to a four legged guest. On seeing that my unexpected visitor dying due to (probable heat) exhaustion, I cried again until I got up to learn that it was all just a dream.

Dear Archangel Raphael, please continue to block off my nightmares. My day time hours are already nightmarish due to a few living characters. Do allow me at least 8 hours of peace for when I am sleeping. Thank you.

Good Japanese Children Maintain Super White Uwabaki

Once upon a time, I attended a Catholic Chinese school perched on top a hill. My primary school years were never happy. Before this school, I attended a Catholic kindergarten nearby that taught very little Chinese even though it was also a feeder school for the Chinese primary school on the hill. Due to the absolute minimal literacy in Mandarin, all of us from the same kindergarten plus the few native children who spoke, read or wrote even less Mandarin were singled out almost from day 1 as hopeless. Except for one lovely teacher in my primary one class, I seem to remember the others for barking orders throughout the entire 6 years there.

Malaysian children mostly wear white canvas shoes to school. My parents used to buy mine from Bata and back in those days, the quality of the shoes were disappointing. They were usually uncomfortable because they were too narrow to fit me properly. There was also an obsession in requiring that the children keep the shoes super white. It is not uncommon to see multiple pairs of school shoes drying under the sun on Sundays in front of houses. The mothers/helpers would paint the shoes to make them really white. Today, this obsession lives on.

One Monday when I was nearly 11, I wore a pair of newish Lotto runners to school. It wasn’t because I was vain and it wasn’t because I was a show off. I had to wear it because my school shoes didn’t dry in time due to the tropical downpour over the weekend. After the Monday morning assembly, another student who committed a similar crime and I were told to stay on the basketball court. After all of the other children had returned to their classrooms, we were told to stand under the sun as punishment. I was probably glad to be punished because it was an opportunity to get away from my lessons but a few teachers made the experience unbearable by making stupid comments. One nosy individual (a rookie) inquired after our crimes and chastised me for wearing an imported brand. I was asked, “What is wrong with Bata shoes? Imported shoes are for the rich and you are at this school.” The other student’s crime was slightly different. He was wearing regulation school shoes but they weren’t cleaned over the weekend due to the rain. As for my runners, they weren’t pure white. They were off white in colour and were made of a combination of materials, not canvas. I later wore similar runners to a private school and had no trouble with the law there.

The boy and I stood under the sun past recess and it was probably an hour before midday when my nose began to bleed. I ran to the staff room for assistance. The teacher offered me half a toilet roll and began to search for my contact details frantically. Before my Mum got there, the other student was told to return to his classroom. My Mum took one look at me and knew right away that I had been exposed to the Sun for way too long. Unlike other kids who tan easily, I tended to turn red. My rosy cheeks were burning. My Mum was furious. After an exchange of angry words with the teacher, I was on my way home.

The teachers at my primary school used to remind us regularly that Japanese children (model students) keep their school shoes super clean. We were made to feel like we were backwards and dirty – typical 山芭佬 (Shan Ba Lao). This is similar to calling us Country Bumpkins or implying that we are monkeys that still live in trees. Many, many years later, I found out why the Japanese children have super white uwabaki.

I knew for a long time that many Japanese children walk to school. I have seen pictures of them walking without uniforms and carrying a Randoseru each. In such pictures, one would also see the children wearing all types of runners on the way to school. It turned out that they only change over to pure white uwabaki at the school. The uwabaki is a slip on style indoor slippers, worn only in the classroom! That is why they are so clean! Apparently Japanese mothers also dust a new pair of uwabaki with baby powder to keep them white longer.

Most Malaysian children do not walk to school. They put on the white school shoes at the front door step at home and do not take them off again until after school. They wear them to the filthy toilets, to PE lessons, in the classroom, on the school bus, at the Kopitiam (café) after school and wherever they happen to be during the school day. That is why it is so damn hard to keep them super white for long. Those Gits should never have compared Malaysian school shoes to the Japanese Uwabaki. That is like comparing chalk and cheese!

I don’t own the following images. I googled and pasted them here to show curious readers what the footwear that I have mentioned in this post look like.

This is a typical pair of Malaysian school shoes in 2012. They are a bit like Dunlop Volleys.

This is a typical pair of Japanese uwabaki.