My Ah Kong

My parents are up in Penang for the English-speaking Methodist Church's Annual Conference. They didn't say where they were staying but I figured it would be in Ma's parents' house by default so I called.

They were out but my Ah Kong picked up the phone. The conversation was a bit garbled but the old man's still sharp. When I asked him how Ah Mah was, he said her "central nervous system no good". I asked what he does and he said he goes "marketing" (that's the Malaysian idiom for "going grocery shopping at the market"; seriously, I love it 'cos it sounds so cool) three or four times a week. Although my mum's not too keen on it, I think he still rides his motorcycle.

When the Japanese invaded China he was there for university since at the time even Malayan-born Chinese were still considered Chinese citizens. He got recruited to be an officer and ended up training men twice his age. Later when he came back he was a schoolteacher. After he retired it was too boring so he tried being a mechanic. That didn't work so he went to culinary school and started his own catering business and ran cooking classes. (Man, those Chinese New Year banquets with the ping-pong table pulled out to make room for all the fantastic dishes and relatives...) He also made and sold fruit-fly traps, kitchen utensils, and those funny foot acupressure boards on the side. He's slowed down now but he's still fun to talk to.

Thank God for one intact grandparent. My father's father was dead long before I was born. He died of prostate cancer diagnosed late; my dad likes to complain about how these traditional old Chinamen are stubborn about having their blood drawn. My grandmothers are in the late stages of Alzheimer's Disease, and being young and cocky I think I'd rather take poison than be like that. When I'm old, I want to be like my Ah Kong.