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Nostalgic smells – the good ones

I was dozing in my easy chair, when I suddenly smelt something familiar – a baking cake! What was it? Butter cake? Sugee cake? Fruit cake? Memories of preparations for Christmas flooded in. Mum would start the Christmas baking about the beginning of December, the second week of the Advent season. She would be baking into the early hours of the morning.

During the day we, kids would be hauled in to help out with mincing dried mixed fruit, raisins, preserved winter melon, cherries, almonds and everything else that needed mincing and cutting. Our Ah Ee (Aunty) who was our housekeeper and nanny, would be preparing and making the pineapple jam for the jam tarts. As she stirred the grated pineapple and sugar, over the hot stove, the smell of cinnamon and cloves would also emanate from the thick bubbling sweet mixture. When that was done, the baking would start in earnest.

Dad would take leave from work a week before Christmas, which was also during our school holidays. His job was to make the pastry for the jam tarts. Mum would pour in the ingredients following her recipe and Dad would mix them together and knead the dough. Mum was always very precise about the measurements of ingredients, as she wanted a perfectly consistent result.

We’d set up our jam tart ‘factory’ when the dough was ready. Each of us kids had a specific job. I often cut the pastry for the tart bases and the topping decorations. My sisters would be greasing the patty tins and filling in the jam and my brother would be managing the oven. Mum would be the supervisor and overseer of these proceedings. Those were the days when this was our pre-Christmas family activity. It was fun, haggling, shouting, playing with the dough and eating up the rejects that didn’t turn out right. There was, of course, the tasting, which was an excuse to eat some of the good ones before time, as many of the cakes and jam tarts would go to neighbours and friends first.

We always looked forward to the cake making in anticipation of being allowed to lick the spoon and bowl off remnants of raw cake mix, after the cake tins were filled and put into the oven to bake. The smell of baking cakes and tarts was the smell of Christmas!

It also evokes memories of ‘pau'(Chinese steamed buns) suppers after mid-night mass, which in the 1960’s and 70’s actually started at 10.00pm on Christmas eve and ended about 12.00am on Christmas morning with everyone wishing each other ” Merry Christmas!” after the service. It was a jolly time and we even smiled at and greeted people we didn’t know! This rarely happens nowadays when people often only greet the people they know or talk to. Some of the joy seems to have been lost over time, or perhaps as adults we have lost the wonder of childhood in our electronic and scientific less sociable virtual world.

Opting Out : Taking a break…

Many wonder why I seem to be satisfied with just a few readers who care to follow or read my posts here. Thank you to those who appear to wait for a new post with bated breath. I really appreciate that you like what I post and am thankful for you. Others may dip in now and then to see if there’s anything ‘new’ on this blog. My apologies for the erratic posting, but hopefully you’ll gain something from reading my posts. I also notice that a few even take the trouble to go through my archives, thank you for your patience, I hope you find something that appeals to you or something useful to your life. You are certainly free to browse but if you like some material, for any other purpose other than pure interest or curiosity, please be courteous enough to acknowledge where you found the idea or info. It’s not just good manners, it’s also respectful, lawful and truthful to acknowledge your source of info. Not that I’m an expert or authority in life – I’m just a Blogger! Blogging out my inspirations and frustrations, holding a monologue with myself? Or my reader?

It’s my nature to avoid crowds. That’s why I like reading books, wrapping myself in a world far from the noise and stress of reality. Being escapist? May be, but we all need that retreat, especially when you’ve just been in a “dog-fight” that’s frustrating, loud and tense. I needn’t win, I just leave…Well, ” he who runs away lives to fight another day” (Unknown). We all need a break, that’s why I need this opt out habit. The rat race is not for me! Specially at this age when I should be in blissful retirement but am not yet, out of necessity.

Metaphorically, take a break on your personal desert island somewhere in a pleasant stratosphere where you can be yourself. Be pleased with yourself and content with where you’re at. Forget the cringing, back biting, back stabbing, parasitic world. Lie on the hammock within your bubble and rest, relax in happy recuperation and rejuvenation.

Cheers, enjoy your cool coconut water! Lazing around for a little while. Dozing off. Good night, sweet dreams, hope to feel refreshed and much younger when I wake up!

The Unbeliever prays

In a world where words often differ from actions, much is preached by those believers of faith on the spiritual and moral values that should guide our lives and actions. Beautiful words indeed! We all want heaven but do we understand that we have to work for it? We all want peace, freedom, respect of our human dignity, justice and equality, but are we prepared to suffer for it? To win a battle, one has to fight! The agnostic, the atheist, the unbeliever can’t reconcile the confusion where believers words do not match the reality of their actions. The distrust is compounded by the “good guys” that encourage ‘justified’ open war to destroy the “bad guys” . Yet, who has any right to judge another when all are imperfect. All are sinners. Is this judgement by one’s peers, or a judgement of the uninvolved of those involved in this negative reactionary, anti-social act? Few ask, “Why did this happen?”

The world has become more reactionary and defensive in it’s response to the human crisis. The blame game is on, illusions and delusions created using technology’s most efficient tool -AI-ed SOCIAL MEDIA!

So, the Unbeliever resorted to prayer, begging God to sort out the confusion and make “heaven on earth” a possibility… if such exists…

Is there any chance that they who claim to be “believers” will practice what they preach. Stop confusing the unbelievers and driving them away. God will not blame them. It is too complex for the mind to absorb but hypocrisy is a complex animal and should be studied carefully.

I remember one sentence in a book I read, maybe decades ago, that went somewhat like this, ” Hypocrisy is the tribute evil pays to good…” Forgive any inaccuracy, but it made sense to me then and now.

How does one convince the Unbeliever? the Atheist? the Agnostic? the Free thinker? when words don’t match actions, the talk isn’t walked? Do lies become truth by being repeated? This is self-created bad luck, or making a dark prediction become reality, not because it’s true but because it is “self-made truth”. Manufactured and artificial, often without substance or valid reason. Inhumanity marches on to conquer the earth!

Walking, watching , thinking

When I was younger, I used to take long walks by myself. I would go to various places. These were partly expeditions to observe life as it passed me by and an exploration of my own thoughts as I went along. It was a calm and enjoyable time, walking by the beach,listening, feeling the breeze, admiring and marvelling at the beauty and intricacy of nature. The trees that may have stood in one place for nearly a 100 years or more, now gnarled and twisted in their ancient years with dependent plants anchored in their branches. Their constant companions. It’s funny that even trees had companions but most of mine seemed like rolling stones. Like marbles, we rolled along, knocked into one another, then rolled away again to wherever we went. I have the nature of a mouse (so I was labelled. Being born under that Chinese zodiac animal). Silently creeping in the shadows, looking for things to feed my curiosity, watching, waiting in apparent timidity until the coast was clear.

Was I by nature or design solitary? Most times, I was just the silent observer, didn’t say much and preferred to keep my thoughts to myself. Perhaps it was the environment I grew up in. Parents were fond of listening to the more talkative siblings who seemed sociable and extrovert. They often forgot my existence. I’m not a crowd person. I dislike ostentation and only engage when someone directly communicates with me. I often shy away from introducing myself, perhaps that doesn’t help when you need to network. It takes an extra effort for me to do so. Few understand that one can like one’s own company.

However, there are times when I wish I could share my world with someone as a friend. A companion in the way who needn’t be constantly with me but still with me even if we’re apart. Whether such a person exists, I don’t know.

While having a meal on my own at our local ‘kopi tiam’ or ‘kedai mamak’, it’s interesting to hear the on-going chatter of other diners, like background music when immersed in my own thoughts, but still being aware of the on-goings around. One can explore the mysteries of the universe even in this place, while savouring the delights of delicious ‘coffee shop’ food.

The mall is also one of my ‘haunts’. Busy shoppers, brightly lighted and well designed shop fronts show-casing the latest arrivals and goods in stock. Promoting the newest technologies, fashions, trends, “hotest buys” etc… It’s a good workout for your legs walking around the mall, even if you’re just window shopping. This naked capitalism is what they call “retail therapy” for those who find shopping dope for depression.

For me rest comes in a quiet spot where a cool breeze blows relieving the heat of day. Open boats bobing on the waves. The sound of the sea as it laps on the shore. Look up at the sky to feel the vastness of its limitless canopy. I don’t need much, just the basics to live.

Sun, sea and sardine sandwiches.

One day I thought of “Sardine sandwiches” and remembered the taste of them. Tinned sardines, mashed in tomato sauce, mixed in with raw purple onion rings, a squeeze of lime sprinkled in, salt and pepper to taste. Perhaps with a bit of sliced red chillie thrown into the mix to give a spicy ‘kick’. Spread on buttered bread and sandwiched with a slice of fresh crunchy cucumber.

This evoked memories of sunny days at the beach, digging for clams at the water’s edge where the waves crashed in foamy dissolution with great sighs of relief. Splashing in the shallows, braving the wave swells into deeper water. Floating on my back, looking up into the wide sky and watching the sea kites and gulls winging overhead. Swimming further out and looking back at the land with its dark tree line. Sitting on an inner car tyre tube we used as a float. I was then small enough to find it a comfortable seat, just floating out and paddling with my hands and legs in the water to propel me in any direction I chose.

We took the public bus to the beach, a noisy, excited bunch of teenagers and children, so care free and happy to be alive. However well prepared we were with skin creams and oils, we always got sun-burned into various shades of brown, from the nut brown to the over-baked cake.

The aftermath of this wonderful time on a sunny beach in Batu Ferringh was felt a day or two later. With smarting burnt skin on face, neck, arms, legs and all areas exposed for hours to the sun. Lying down was painful, especially if our backs were sun-burned.

This symptom was treated with olive or gingerly oil, and various cold creams. Then came the ugly part. The burnt skin would start peeling off when the smarting subsided. We’d look like “lepers” with skin coming off our noses, shoulders, backs etc. leaving a two toned giraffe like effect on our skins for a few days. We would suffer then but go back for more when the school holidays came round again.

Waking from this reverie, my main complaint was that tinned sardines from supermarket shelves today are a far cry from the wonderful tinned sardines we used to enjoy. There’s less fish and too much tomato sauce to make up the stated weight of the product. They don’t make them like they used to!

Fewer families go on picnics by the sea nowadays. The sea is also polluted and many of the younger generation prefer virtual reality to the real McCoy. Sad isn’t it?

Mothers Day- a day in many

Today 14th May 2023 is Mothers Day for countries and peoples who recognize this day as a special day to pay tribute/homage to our mothers as the backbone and central pillars of our lives from birth till they or we pass on.

Many lucky children would be sending gifts, flowers and wishes to their living mothers (including grandmothers, mothers-in-law, step-mothers, foster mothers, godmothers etc) but others may have mixed feelings about giving thanks to our mothers on just one day in the year.

Some feel it unnecessary to do so on this day but to thank our mothers everyday of our lives for all the small and big acts of love and compassion they dispense virtually 365 days in a year.

Yet, there are also those who wonder what exactly a mother’s love is? Those orphaned at an early age, are in care, abandoned, neglected or abused. It seems inappropriate to puncture the beautiful ideal of a mother’s role on this “joyous occasion ” but reality comes with memory.

It is hard for some not to have mixed feelings about motherhood or the role their own parents, especially their moms, played in their past lives. Our mothers are only human and very often imperfect, we only realize that when we’re older. Children can’t grasp the challenges of adulthood that cause them to be aware of the under currents of conflict between adults that silently and directly impact them. They can feel rejected or alienated without knowing the reason for it. Adults often play the game of brushing off a child’s misgivings to cover the truth that children, in their innocence, can sense. The child is like a sponge that absorbs certain vibes and does have a sense of justice. A child knows when things are not quite right and if she/he is being treated differently from others.

Yet even those without experience of a true mother’s love may perhaps save their own children from a the suffering they may have gone through in their childhoods. We have a lot to learn, not to wallow in the past and let history repeat itself. We as individual human beings can find ways to change the dark legacies of our pasts and grant our children a future of love, understanding, joy and peace that we perhaps seldom had.

However, we need to teach our innocent children the lessons we learned from our hard pasts to protect and nurture them, not to make the same mistakes our parents or we ourselves may have made. It is a dream, for I do not have children of my own but have a world of children before me. I wonder at the future our children, our hopes and joys, are heading towards. A future we shape…

Little things that empower.

I bought a measuring jug, the other day. Something I was missing for a very long time since I moved in with my mother after Dad’s passing over eight years ago. My old measuring jug is misplaced among my pile of belongings, scattered among those of the rest of the family.

I’ve moved several times, trying to make a fresh start after my beloved life companion passed away nearly twenty years ago. They all seemed to have fizzled out for one reason or another. However, I’ve never lost my love of food and the creation of things edible. Food and making yummy edibles, chills me out. It’s a really relaxing occupation, just thinking about the myriad possibilities of what could be created from basic food stuffs like beans, eggs, flour, oil, sugar etc.

I’m quite fascinated by bread making, especially made by hand. Lots of hard work, from such simple ingredients like flour, sugar, salt, yeast, oil and water. Bread is a common food in virtually all cultures, from east to west on this planet. Bread in it’s various forms sustains life.

So, getting back to my wonderful purchase ie. the measuring jug, it felt great to be able to measure out several ingredients with just one jug without having to fiddle with knobs or weights to get a basic measurement. It doesn’t need any batteries either. This simple device is an amazing invention for the home cook who just wants to give family and friends an enjoyable meal. It needn’t be earth-shattering, but a lovely taste-bud memory.

Armed with this wonder jug, I feel empowered to create as many of the mouth watering creations shared by other expert chefs as well as doing some of my own little experiments.

My google search for the history of the measuring cup brought up these facts.

The measuring cup was invented by Fannie Farmer in 1896. It is said that this “new concept was published in a book called “The Boston Cooking School Cook Book” which was written by her when she was the director of the Boston Cooking School.” (https://ifood.tv/equipment/measuring-cup/about)

How ingenious, and invented by a woman as well! Thank you Fannie Farmer, you made life much easier for millions of cooks all over the globe! How EMPOWERING!

Social cloaks & masks, a survival necessity

The world is a complex place. Like baby animals in the wild we quickly learn to adapt to it through experience, although at varying pace. Some of us mature mentally faster than others as our circumstances and life conditions dictate. This is what shapes us as persons, creating a variety of characters with myriad impulses and responses to life’s stimulus.

As a child I used to be rather direct, saying what I meant and meaning what I said. This bluntnesss, however, though mainly guileless and honest seemed to displease people and was often misinterpreted by them. They didn’t get the message, and life became a series of scoldings and punishments. My childhood was quite a nightmare. The bright spots in my childhood revolved around my adventures in art and discovery of things new to me. That’s how my solitary existence started. I was often the lone wolf, or rather the lone mouse. I was a sensitive child to the point of being able to empathize emotionally with people to some extent. As such, growing up was difficult, especially with people who couldn’t understand how negativeness impacted me emotionally. It was hard for me to understand why they said I took myself and other things too seriously.

It was also hard to understand why, they couldn’t see the things I saw in my mind’s eye. It seemed so simple to me to see the beauty in the mundane but hard to explain it, especially to adults who had lost the wonder of childhood.

As I grew older, I began to realize that ‘good relations’ were sometimes built on ‘white lies’. One had to go along with something you didn’t agree with or felt to be untrue, just to keep the peace and to prevent being attacked with ridicule or punished and ostracized. It was a defense tactic, white lies (masks) were necessary for survival in the general society, so I discovered.

Overtime, I learnt to hide my feelings, cloaking them in pictures or words but imperfectly, as I hated to pretend. I guess I’d fail as an actor. I couldn’t act unless deliberately deciding to do so.

It’s always been difficult for me to join a fraternity without being told what I should think or how I should behave. I’m not anti-social, just quiet and prefer my own company, most of the time. I am myself with me, as I believe most can’t accept me as myself. My thoughts are often deemed controversial or against the general trend that they seem unacceptable to most.

Survival in society means, to cloak and mask ones self in a guise others can recognize or identify with. To hide behind these facades and pretend to agree to the disagreeable. I wonder when I will lose sight of who I really am…

We live very often with self-censorship, encouraged by a society that finds ‘truth’ too difficult to deal with. It’s too difficult to face who we really are. Perhaps, that’s a problem the whole world faces. The lies translate into violence and oppression, principles and moral values dubbed and discarded as “old fashioned” or “obsolete”. Our mirror reflections are not of ourselves but the masks we show the world, our true image probably is no complement to us, more a criticism of our inner beings.

The solitary path is for me, the best one, perhaps, just me and the Great Spirit who walks with me, that knows who I truly am.

Origin of inequality.

Inequality is conceived in the mind. I’m not a psychologist nor a student of psychology. But, the question of where inequality originates is a recurring one. In trying to find an answer to this recurring question, it dawned on me that inequality stems from the mind, a perception of others as inferior, undeserving, and of lower status than one’s self.

There is only one equal relationship that exists – the peer relationship ie. adult to adult, child to child and so on. If one sees others as having something in common or being within a group of equal peers.

However, other unequal relationships are often at play in our interaction with others. Parent – child, teacher-student, master – servant or master-slave…

Some of these unequal relationships may change and become more equal but others, like master-servant/ slave, employer – employee persist. It may be for always. There’s a set mentality, bordering on the caste system. A slave is forever a slave even if free on paper. Discrimination sets in. Borders are established on various grounds down to skin tone.

We know this apartheid to be wrong in principle but justify our warped emotions with negative generalisations, often more untrue. At the very heart of this inclination to discriminate, dehumanise and demonise is FEAR. Fear of the other whom we don’t know nor understand. Thus, slaves are slaves forever.

It is this ideology of inequality and inculcation of ‘unequalness’ that has driven the maintenance of an unequal status quo between conqueror and conquered, victor and loser, colonisers and colonised, master and slave.

Thus, the existence of systemic discrimination, institutionalization of apartheid, racism and xenophobia. This ideology of inequality justifies the denial of the humanity of those perceived to be of lower status and intelligence.

Systemic racism and the institutionalization of discrimination whether negative or positive has become normalized in our lives. The caste system becomes cast in iron in all its forms and variations. Thus, we live with inequality inculcated into our perceptions of the world and all living in it. We become the very instrument of what we know we should oppose based on emotion, the need for self-glorification and assurance of our acceptability in society, our ego boosters. We think of this as self-love. Who doesn’t need this?

It avoids the larger picture, the reality, the truth of our existence, that we live in an unequal world community that seldom wants to admit its unequal nature but lends much lip-service to the virtues of justice and peace.

Stock taking time

The time has come when the rays of life’s sunset can be glimpsed over the horizon. Age is just a number, yet one has to take stock to know where one stands. Why am I doing this? What purpose does it serve? For me? For you? for all out there, who may chance upon this record of personal history? This is the story of my thoughts, feelings, opinions, views, judgments, memories…

As my body slows down, and mind becomes slightly blunted, I look back and wonder, “What have I done? Is this of use to anyone?”

I have no successors, like a lone voice in a wilderness, only I know. It will one day be silenced in death. Yet, I’m not anyone important, I’m not a celebrity. I’m just a lone wolf writer, casting my lonely thoughts to anyone who cares to read them.

I know it’s too late to change, for there is peace and contentment in this solitary existence that I’ve lived for most of my life. Will I die alone? Do I care, if I do?

I’ve hit a trough, becoming familiar with what it means to age even though my mind still feels as inquisitive as a child’s, craving for adventures into knowledge and experience. The thirst to create something new, find a new way to make this world a more livable, peaceful and happy place, persists in my being. How can I deny this? This is my spirit which will live forever, even when this soul leaves its “mortal coil”!