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Looking through the New York
Times dated January 28th, I tried to paint a picture of the world as
it was on that fateful day – the day I was born back so many many years ago. As
I flipped through its pages, I am catapulted back in time to the day of my
birth. Viewing the many impressions of that day, I realized that I had come
into a world which was filled with sorrow and fear. From the articles in that
paper, I learnt that even then (now decades ago) existed this threat of nuclear
destruction. Americans, Britons, and Canadians were marching to New Zealand and
Australia in the hope of escaping a nuclear war, an inevitable eventuality
according to them. In addition to that,
I also learnt that there was also the fear that South East Asia would be taken
over by the Vietcong. Communist insurgents were breaking forth not just in
South Vietnam, but also in Cuba and other countries. With Russia and China
pushing on the side of the communists, it almost appeared as though a global
communist takeover would be eventual. The most striking and, perhaps,
frightening discovery that I made from the New York Times concerns the war that
almost broke out among the countries of Indonesia, Philippines, and Malaysia
were it not for the intervention of the then U.S. Attorney General, Robert, F.
Kennedy. Having read those articles, I now have an idea of just how cold and
dark the world was when I entered her.
But
trouble did not just exist in the outer world. A lot of turmoil existed within
my immediate world, my family. Just eight months after my birth, my father was
sent to England by our government to do a study. He was stationed in England
for a little over a year. And when he did finally come home, I was already two
years old. For that reason, I guess, he
had always felt estranged from me even until the day he passed away. Besides
that, I also suspect that both he and my mom wanted a daughter. Undoubtedly
then, they must have been disappointed when they discovered I was not a girl. I
think for those two reasons, if not for any other, I was always very distant as
far as my father was concerned. I learnt many years later from my eldest
brother, and subsequently from my mom, that my father had treated me rather
badly all throughout my childhood. I
recall I was often made to feel like the “black sheep” of the family. He
repeatedly (not without the help of my elder brothers) drilled into my mind,
and I guess I must have internalized it, that I was mischievous and naughty. As
Charles Horton Cooley would suggest, having accepted those labels and
identities given to me, I became somewhat withdrawn from my family and involved
myself with many delinquent behaviours. Edwin Lemert’s labelling theory too is
demonstrated here. Having been labelled “mischievous” and “naughty,” I
proceeded to behave as I was labelled. But all these also gave me much room to
be by myself and, the now very much appreciated, time to have thought many
things. Here then is one of the ways and reasons of how I got into the “study”
of the occult, plus my fascination for philosophy and the paranormal. [I will
have to break off at this point and continue with the subject of the
supernatural further down.]
As I
mentioned earlier, when my father returned to Malaysia, I was already two years
of age. Soof after his return, by orders
of the government (I just realized at this moment while I am writing – my obvious
resentment towards the government) we were to transfer from Singapore to Johore
Bahru (the city where I was born) which was about 10 miles from the city of
Singapore. (I later found out – after the first writing
that we weren’t actually transferred back to Johore Bahru; rather my parents
decided to have be delivered in Johore Bahru so that I would remain a Malaysian
citizen – guess they weren’t able to see the future for these two countries
back then). Johore Bahru was a temporary stop for my father’s
actual destination was to be the island of Penang, located at the north-west of
the Peninsula of Malaysia. For reasons
known only to the government, we had been directed to move from one end of the
Peninsula to her other end.
Being the
kid that I was, I naturally behaved like most other kids … jumping up and down,
playing with whatever objects I could lay my “podgy” hands on (I was, even if I
have to say so myself, a rather plumb and cute kid. Perhaps all those
unpleasant experiences have resulted in to a slender [though not thin] me today
– bear in mind this was written decades ago .. so whether I
remain today slender or not is a matter of opinion.) I was the fifth child in the family,
and by then one would expect that my father would have experienced enough to
know that those were ‘natural’ behaviours (I hate to utilize the word natural
or normal as they are very abstract concepts and are highly relative. One
should not be able to classify an act as “unnatural” or “abnormal” simply
because what is normal to one may not be so normal to another. Unfortunately
for want of a better word, I will often be forced to use such abstract and
relative concepts throughout this paper.) But my father did not treat them as
natural. The sanctions he imposed on me were harsh to the extent where I am
ALMOST tempted to say “unforgivable.” Perhaps this is [one of] the reasons why
I ended up being closer to my mother; even closer, I would say, than any of the
other five children (here I am tempted to go into explaining my deep interest
in Sociology because it is in a way greatly due to this that led me into the
study of Sociology. Perhaps, I will have to skip it for now and maybe I will be
able to mention it later.)
To be continued ….
Peace,
Syl
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