All about Andy
Aug 23, 2005 in Life-logger
I heard this story a while ago and I'm sharing it with you.
Updates: Since when did I say that this post was about Singapore and Malaysia? I was talking about Malaysians. Don't drag innocents into the picture.
Once upon a time, in a little village, there was a young boy who lived with his father and three siblings. Let's call him Andy (because a person by the name of Andy pissed off a very dear friend of mine).
Now Andy grew up in a not-so-good environment. This was what happened really. In the very beginning, there were seven of them in the family, and things were not too good you see. His parents would be quarreling most of the time, and usually, his mum would be complaining about how they could not make ends meet and etc, and etc.
Finally, Andy's mum couldn't take it anymore, and decided she would go. With that, she took flight with her youngest child, a boy by the name of Aloysius, and went off to greener pastures. Or rather, to make her own greener pasture. And mind you, she was pretty good at it. Maklumlah, satu anak saje, she could scrimp and save and she could give everything to the little kid, and that kid grew up pretty well, having the best of things that his loving mother could afford. As for her other kids, she decided that they were grown up enough to learn from their dad, so she left them with her stricken husband, who had now the burden of four children upon his shoulders.
The years passed, and Andy grew up bitter and sad. As he was the oldest child in the family, he had to help his father make ends meet. In the days he would go to school, and after school, he had to go and help the Ah Pek take care of the local kedai runcit. He could never afford himself extra taekwondo lessons, and there was hardly any time leftover for him to do the things he liked. And the rules at home were strict. It was always, 'You can't do this. You can't do that. You can't do this. We don't have enough. You have to take care of your brothers and sister.'
Andy would have his occasional visits to his mother, and he saw how she cleaned up well. He saw her house clean neat and tidy, and thought of the mess he had to go home to every day. He also saw that she had now more money to spend, now that it was only she and Aloysius. He saw his youngest brother reading a fresh and clean copy of The Lord of the Rings and remembered that he had to get to school extra early every day just to read a few pages from that non-borrow-out copy. He saw the collection of comic books that his brother had and remembered that he could never afford to purchase his own set…
And when occasionally his mother was generous and kind enough to remember that Andy was her son too, she would give him a copy of the book… he would go home elated, and with an angry stare at his tired father, usually spent, and sleeping in the living room sofa, he would run back to his bed, and lie down, looking at the ceiling, wondering about his future.
One day, Andy came home to see his father sitting in the living room, waiting for him to return. Now this was a strange occasion, because his dad was usually so busy, he only came home late at night after 9. He thought to himself, 'Now what? Things I can't get again?'
His dad, seemed to have read his mind, and went, 'I've got something to tell you son. It's about your education.'
He glared at his father and he said, 'I already know it. I can't go anywhere. I have to get out and work.'
'Your mother and I have discussed the issue…'
'Oh, so now you talk to her too?'
'Well, we're still your parents.'
'Tell me about it.'
His father heaved in a sigh at this, and then he continued, 'Your mother and I have decided that you'll go to live with her. She can afford you a higher education, and you will go to stay with her now.'
Needless to say, this was the greatest news Andy had ever heard in a very, very long time. He just couldn't wait. He packed up, and he said his goodbyes. Well, sure, he was sad that he was leaving his dad for a while… but he didn't really care. He knew that he was going to have a better life from then on.
And then he left.
Oh Andy grew up happy after that. His mother said that he needn't have to work anymore, and all he needed to do was concentrate on studying. And later, get himself a place at a good university, which he did. After all, the kid was pretty smart.
This time, he made the occasional visit to his father's place, and everytime he went, he would be the good son, trying to help his younger, not-so-fortunate siblings out in their work. Very rarely, he would remember that this was a bigger family, more mouths to feed, more square feet to clean, and when he stepped on an occasional fallen piece of torn paper, he would curse like a goddamned know-it-all, 'WHY DON'T YOU GUYS EVER SWEEP THE FLOOR? THIS IS YOUR HOUSE YOU KNOW?'
He forgot that this was a two-storey house, compared to the single floor, 2 bedroom apartment he had grown to call home.
He saw his sister, Athena, mugging for her papers just to get into the public college, and he went, 'Doesn't Dad ever save money for you to go to a private place? They have better teachers there you know.'
Usually, Athena would stare at him 'one-kind' one, and then, pretend he never said all that.
So he grew up, cleaned up, and he was happy. And when he finally grew up, he was damn thankful to the mother, for bringing him up well. More importantly he was glad, that he didn't have to spend his life 'wasting away', or so he called it, with his father. He was thankful that he was more knowledgeable, and he knew the luxury of 'luxury' and you know what? He was also thankful that he had a father, sometimes.
Andy's got this wonderful thing in him that likes to tell stories you know. In fact, he's so damn fond of his 'sad childhood and how his mother saved his life', he can't stop talking about his past. Everywhere he goes, he will tell tales of how his dad put sooo many restrictions on his life, and how at the end of it, his dad still can't afford him the things he deserved and wanted. And everywhere he goes, he never fails to heap praises of 'How great my mother is compared to my dad', you know, just so that people will praise his mother too.
But of course he still visits his dad, like a good son should. But it's an ongoing case, the dad-bashing, the mother praising, the division of 'this is better than that because she gives me more and he never helped me…'
Well.
Andy's almost 40 60 this year and he's still the half-baked potato who behaves like a backstabbing asshole everytime he talks about his dad.
There is a moral to this story. I'll be happy to know if you can tell me what it is I'm trying to say.