I was 9 years old. Primary Three. It was his first day at school. Coming from an English educated family, he doesn't speak a word of mandarin. Neither did I when I first stepped into this Chinese-based primary school. After the assembly we went to our respective classes. All morning I was worried about him. I wanted to see him. I wanted to make sure he was okay. When the recess bell rang, I didn't go to the canteen with my usual gang of friends. I went to look for him. I wanted to buy something for him to eat. I went to his classroom. I saw his schoolbag but I didn't see him. I ran across the basketball court, up the hall, down to the canteen, into the teacher's carpark, up to the higher primary block... I couldn't find him. I was crying. I thought I lost him. And then there he was. Out of the blue. I saw him. Out of pride I held back my tears and asked him where he has been.
Few days later....
The bell rang. School was over. I went over to his class, only to see him crying. I asked him what happen. He said:"I got caned 7 times today." At that precise moment, I knew what it was like to be really angry and extremely protective. When my dad came I told him what happened. I couldn't remember my father's expression or what he felt. Later in my growing up years, my father told us that after he found out my brother was caned, he went to the staff room the next day to see the headmaster. He wanted an explanation. The headmaster called up the teacher and asked her to explain herself.
"May I know why my son was caned? He only started school less than 2 weeks ago?"
"Your son wasn't injured! So what is the big hu-ha?"
"Whether he was injured or not is another question. I want to know why he was caned."
"He didn't hand up his artwork. I asked him several times and he didn't answer. So I caned him."
"He did his artwork. I saw him doing it. In fact, he did it 3 times because he thinks it wasn't good enough. My son said when he wanted to hand up the artwork, he couldn't find it in his bag. Someone must have rummaged through it because all his things were disorganized."
"Then why didn't your son explain this? Why did he keep quiet?"
"Let me ask you. If the boy in question is an Indian child, and not my son, will you cane him?"
"Of course I won't."
"Why?"
"Because he is not Chinese. He can't understand mandarin."
"What makes you think my son can understand mandarin? Just because he is Chinese? He couldn't understand a word you were saying. That's why he didn't answer you. That is the reason why I sent him to a Chinese school. To learn mandarin."
*speechless*
It was this incident that caused him to have an increased fear of authority. He became more anxious and stressed out. He became afraid of anybody who has power over him. It wasn't until he was Form 3 that he managed to shed this fear and became a normal student who constantly criticise teachers behind their backs.
He finished his SPM last year, and he's in college now pursuing A-levels. Other people may not be able to sense the brotherly/sisterly love among us (my brother, my sister and myself). We don't talk much. We never have heart-to-heart talks. But we've lived together since the day he was born and I can safely say that I'm able to predict his actions in almost every circumstance. He was always the reliable one, the smarter one, the strong-silent one, the trustworthy one and the one who stays at home. I'm always the rebellious one, the hardworking-but-not-as-smart-as-her-brother one, the chatty one, and the 'kaki jalan' of the family. I noticed that he never really gets any scolding, unlike me who needs to watch my every step to make sure I don't get blasted by my dad the disciplinarian.
Everytime I think of my brother, I would remember my 9-year-old self and his first day at school. After all these years, I'm still worried. I'm worried that he won't be able to cope with his studies. I'm afraid that he'll have a hard time adjusting. I'm worried that he won't have any friends. I'm worried that he'll regret going to college. All nonsensical worriness. I know he'll be just fine, but I still worry.
