Lazy me... *yawn*
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Yawn !! Now at work, typing this.. Dunno la..It has been rainy since yesterday.. I never really like rain when I am outside..Haha !I love rain when I’m at home or at nite..
Haha ! Rainy days tend me to make me a bit of emo.. Haha !Wishing tat I’m at home now .. Lying on my bed, listening to radio and enjoying a cup of tea or kopi.. hee.. Yippeee.. Tmr is PH.. can rest & relax.. can nua..Dunno… Suddenly I feel very lazy & super sian.. LOL ! Maybe it’s the lazy part of me creeps in.. :p Hopefully the US bailout talk will come thru’ soon as afraid tat things may turn… I dunno .. *yawn* Anyway was helping my colleague to do some research and chanced upon this article.. Found it quite meaningful ..
My story : Grandfather's Lunch
I never thought about the dangers of growing up in Vietnam during the war. I had more important things to worry about I was six. Aunt Trang, who was eight years older, was helping me get dressed. I was excited at the prospect of getting out of the house.Grandma, the ever-concerned matriarch of the family, recited her litany of reminders: "Stay on the side of the road. Look both ways before crossing the street. Be careful not to spill the food. Run along now." So hand in hand, with Aunt Trang carrying the lunch rack, we scurried one block down the road to our grandfather’s place.
My father, a staff sergeant with the Philippine Air Force, worked as a surgical technician in Vietnam for eight years and had married a local girl. The demands of his job meant that he was away from home for weeks at a time.
Mum taught high school during the day and worked most evenings as an English interpreter at a hospital. I was often left in the care of my grandmother, who gave me and Aunt Trang the job of taking lunch to our grandfather, her estranged husband, who lived alone in a small rented apartment.
I learnt of his existence only when Grandma introduced me to him when I was about five years old. He was a retired regional judge and took great delight in meeting me; he gave me my first five cac (the equivalent of cents at the time).
What started as a brief visit quickly turned into a daily midday errand.It was 1974 and war was raging all over Vietnam, but in Tay Ninh life continued as usual, gunshots and mortar explosions notwithstanding.Blam! Whee!
"Duck down!" Aunt Trang cried out as we walked along. Ratatatatat! Somewhere in the mountains just outside town, trigger-happy Vietcong soldiers had decided it was a fine day to unleash their arsenal of flying pellets down our path.
"Stay low and take cover!"I bent so low that I actually dragged my face along the ground as I ran. Even though my stomach was growling from excitement and hunger, eating dirt was not a welcome option.As we squatted at the side of the road, covering our heads, I started to worry about ong ngoai. He liked his food served hot. If we didn’t get there on time and his lunch turned cold – oh, I dreaded the thought!
I refused to let this outbreak of hostilities slow us down. "Let’s just run for it!" I said.
Aunt Trang suggested "duck-walking" – walking in a squat – down the road. It wasn’t a good idea. After a few paces, my stubby little legs began cramping. We tried all the life-preserving manoeuvres we could think of, running the gamut from practical to ridiculous.
Nothing seemed to work, and we were ready to sit things out until the shooting was over. Then a lightning bolt of memory hit. If we ever came under fire, our elders had told us time after time, we should run from side to side.
"Bullets travel in a straight line," they assured us. "Run in a zigzag."So taking a deep breath, we set off again, running wildly back and forth across the road. It was only later that I found out bullets do sometimes ricochet – not a very comforting thought.
After what seemed an eternity of bullet-dodging, the shooting ceased. "Buddha be praised, the food is still warm," was all I could say after we arrived at our grandfather’s apartment. He was oblivious to the danger we’d just survived. Five cents awaited each of us!
As an adult, I sometimes look back on that eventful day with a mixture of humour, immense gratitude and humility. I now know what my young mind couldn’t grasp then: it’s impossible to go through life without trials and struggles being thrown at you. They come when you least expect them,when your guard is down and your defences are weak. They come when you’re happily strolling down a street and bullets start flying at you.You can dodge them all you want, but as long as you’re alive, they will keep coming, from all directions. You cannot always stop dead in your tracks, or duck down forever. Sure, you might get wounded, but you just have to bandage the wound and carry on.
There’s no room for complacency or defeat.The saying goes, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," but I say, "When someone sprays you with bullets, hit the ground and eat some dirt." When it’s safe, pick yourself up and start walking again. After all, there’s lunch to deliver – and a five-cent reward to collect.
(By Thandani Baesa - Reader's Digest Mag)
