Early Education... (Pt. 2)

Hi fellas

My daily routine was pretty simple. I woke up in the morning. I went to school like every other kid. I studied. I went back home and I slept for two or three hours. Then, my father came back from work and we ate dinner together. At 6 p.m. I helped my parents with our little sate business. I completed my homework while waiting for customers to come and buy our sate. I started to learn about life when I looked at both of my parents. I knew it was not easy for both of them to make ends meet. I realized that both of them have tried and they would never give up, not on me nor to the hardship the life had offered them both.

My parents are very hardworking people. They are not the sort who would love to sit and doing nothing. My daddy for instance, he is a man full with energy and in fact he is so good with his hands. His carpentry skills are simply outstanding. Sometimes I wonder, what would my daddy be if he were to be given the opportunity to study and complete his education? He seems to be very good at many other things too like repairing broken things, his ‘mechanical engineering’ mind works brilliantly and his carving skills are just as good as some artists out there. Not too mention, his self-defend skills too. I learned a lot of things from looking at how he did things around the house and sometimes he taught me one or two. He is a man with not much of words. I don’t deny a person who doesn’t say much, indeed a person who knows a lot about things. I still remember the roughness of his palms when he scratched my back and that coarse skin has kept a million memories which he himself might not even remember. But as a son, I will always remember that coarse skin with a million reasons never to forget.

I love cooking and all. For me, cooking is life. Cooking makes me feel special. Something which I am in command and it frustrates me when I fail to meet my own expectations on the final products. There is nothing strange about a man who can cook. Most people seemed to be shocked when I told them that I cook and I love it. Or maybe they did not expect a person like me to cook, after all. When I was eight or nine years old, my mom would love to ask me to help her out in the kitchen. I sometimes felt lazy and hated it at first. She would make me wash some vegetables, peel onions (I hated it the most…made me cry…), cut and chop some vegetables, clean up fish and chicken. I did not see the point of me staying and helping her in the kitchen at that time. But, years gone by, I realized I did not have to depend on her especially when it comes to cooking and preparing food for lunch or dinner. Sometimes, I felt like it was a part of my duty as a member of the family to somehow participate and contribute in doing some household chores. When I was 11 years old I was already pretty good in the kitchen. I had already learnt how to cook rice, curry, how to fry (deep fry and stir fry) vegetables, steamed fish, roasted fish and a few more to name it. I didn’t realize this at all. These skills and passions came to me just like that. My mom has always been very patient in educating me. Though sometimes she could become a little strict and all. I understood her well for my mother is the light of my family whilst my father is the source of energy.

Now, when I think about both of them and my little brother, I realized how much I miss them all.

I know they miss me and love me like they always do...