Years ago, as I was
about to open the gate to my aunt's in an island city, the maid, who was
sweeping the front-yard, saw me but could not recognize me.
She quickly shouted out,
in Hokkien, for my aunt, "Ah Ee-yah, oo chi leh Hua-nah ti gua kau!"
My aunt came to the
front door, looking at me for a while, then recognizing me, shouted to the
maid, "Emm si-lah. Si Ah Li-yeuk-lah".
The maid had mistaken me
for a Malay and had shouted for my aunt, " Aunt, there's a Malay
outside".
My aunt, on recognizing
me, had shouted in return to the maid, "It's not. It's Luke".
I was extremely sun-tanned,
rather more like sun-burnt then. I must have been darker than a Malay. I was
rather like an extremely dark Malay fisherman. This was due to the very long
hours, for months I had spent in the sun, on the beach and in the sea.
I was then teaching at a
secondary school on the east coast of my country. After school hours, I would
beach-comb the beach or snorkel, line-fish or spear-fish in the sea. I would
also hire a fishing boat, on weekends, to take me to one of the islands off the
coast to enjoy similar activities, and trolling for mackerel, marlin and other
large fish on the way. That was the most exciting and happy time of my early
teaching career, enjoying more than teaching the beauty of the sea.
ltbs
Happiness consists in a
frequent repetition of pleasure.
Arthur Schopenhauer
