Choco Mini

This story is inspired by my mother, she was a teacher and English was one of the subjects she taught. In retrospect, she taught me how to tell stories because she herself was an exceptional storyteller. I remember how even when I am being scolded, she would naturally revert to stories so that I will remember the lesson. Her nagging and stories would sometimes last for hours but being naturally curious, I would ask more questions and she would finally let me sit as she continued.

I wrote the first draft of her biography 7 years ago with an intention to understand her deeper and why she is the way she is. Through that process, I grew to understand her as a person more than just a mother. I saw her as a daughter, as a child, as a wife and then a widow. Much of my own self work required me to tap into past traumas and I thought I would start telling her story of my mother’s first trauma. When I put the pen down after tidying up this chapter, my heart ached because my mother was just a child when this happened. All these stories were in my memory but writing it made me imagine myself as her and I grew to have much more love and empathy towards my mother.

This is a short story based on real life events extracted from my mother's biography.

Chapter 1 - Choco Mini

The orange dust never settled during the day along Pagoda street. Pulsing through the narrow street were tok-tok noodle carts, coolies, soil collectors and children kicking rattan balls with one another - almost all of them wearing the same rubber sandals cut out from used tires, already looking worn down before they are used. Ai Lin wiped her brow with her forearm leaving a muddy streak on her face. She deeply inhaled, taking in all the whiffs of pork offals, mixed sulphuric yellow noodles with undertones of body odour and faeces, and then shouted “Pass me the ball!” The teams were made up of children who lived on the second and thirds floors of the shop houses that were connected by a five-foot walkway. These were the sounds and smells of Pagoda street on the weekends.

Ai Lin was not one of the children who lived here. She and her one and a half year old brother were frequent guests of her grandmother who works as a samsui woman by day and returns at night to a small room that housed 20 other people that were wives and children of one or two men. These dens were baby factories to produce more male heirs to the family name and Ai Lin’s brother was the only boy to be born so far. Ai Lin never got used to the musty still air, much less the furniture or the lack of it. They slept on thin straw mats that were considered beds in this house, candles were used for lights and ceiling fans were merely a cloth draped on a wooden rod that swung lethargically because it was operated by an equally lethargic human arm. One sweltering afternoon on 10 January 1964, Ai Lin napped next to her brother and a greasy rat crawled up the platform where the beds were laid and bit her big toe. She woke up kicking and crying as she flung the rat across the room with her foot. As her eyes cleared from the haze, she realised her grandmother never left her side as she napped, fanning her with a straw fan that was fashioned out of a fragmented piece of mattress.

There was no place else on earth more uncomfortable for 6-year old Ai Lin yet within this jarring cesspool of poverty, her grandmother’s love kept her yearning to come back. She was a woman of little words but she wore a constant smile on her wrinkled tanned leathery face whenever her grandchildren were around. Ai Lin calmed to a faint sob and curled up onto her grandmother’s lap. As her tears caked with the dirt on her face, she began to notice how soft her grandmother’s thighs were, just like tofu. Ai Lin was enamoured by this new sensation and bobbed her head on her grandmother’s thigh enjoying the little resistance it offered. She giggled to herself, forgetting that just a while ago a rat was nibbling on her toe. Ai Lin’s grandmother propped her up into a seated position, placed the tattered straw fan down and fished out of her faded floral slacks a white and green packet of Choco Mini and handed them over as uttered with a wide grin ‘Sen Yat Fai Lok’. Happy Birthday.

Ai Lin unwrapped the packet that was just a bit bigger than her little palms. She shook it with much anticipation, all that chocolate was just for her. Knowing that it was plentiful but limited, she opened the lid and only allowed herself to have a single light green pellet. She placed it on her tongue, it was smooth and minty, a welcome scent above the shit that was prevalent in the air from the soil buckets not too far away. That crust was meant to be crunched on but Ai Lin never bit down, she savoured every moment of this treat. Her warm saliva dissolved the shell, she pressed the chocolate flavoured palm oil paste against the roof of her mouth and found a single grain of rice crispy at the centre. By the time the chocolate dissipated, that grain of once-crispy rice was lost into the mush that Ai Lin was pushing into all corners of her mouth before finally swallowing. This was her first taste of chocolate.

The other children downstairs were beckoning Ai Lin to come down and play, it was her birthday after all. Ai Lin’s grandmother hurried her along while holding her baby brother in her arms. Ai Lin hid box of Choco Mini in her satchel and tied up her hair. She hopped down to put on her sandals and turned back to wave goodbye to her grandmother. Ai Lin’s grandmother gently passed the baby to a younger woman that lived in the same walk-up unit and waved goodbye and donned her folded red samsui hat in preparation for work. In the late afternoon, the streets were permeated with charcoal fire and grilled satay which was also Ai Lin’s favourite treat but she disregarded them. She had something better hidden upstairs saved for later, her perfect way to end this special day. The children kicked around a colourful and majestic rooster feathered chapteh shrieking with laughter, caught in a giggling trance. As they switched from one game to another, the air cooled as the sun began to set and it all seemed like the perfect day for Ai Lin. “Just one more game and then I’ll go back up to take care of Didi.” She lingered, she laughed and then lingered some more and laughed even more.

Ai Lin sat on a curb with her friends with heads of wet hair pressed against their foreheads, they had been running and jumping for hours. All of a sudden, a piercing shrill cut through the chittering on the streets, “Ai Lin!”. It sounded like it came from her grandmother’s house so Ai Lin abruptly parted from her friends and jogged up the staircase, limbering up the last few steps with her aching feet. She squinted to make sense of what was going on in the dimly lit den. She found her brother convulsing on the floor, foaming at the mouth with his eyes rolled back. Knelt next to him was the woman whom Ai Lin’s grandmother handed him over before she left for work. The sight of a manic woman bowing over a dying child was too much for a child to comprehend. Petrified, confused and overwhelmed, the only questions running through her mind were ‘Why are the adults crying? This must be serious. What should I do?’ On the same day she had her first taste of chocolate was the same day she saw a glimpse of death. Instead of calling for an ambulance, that once frantic woman started to become hell-bent on blaming Ai Lin. “Where were you? You should have been looking after him! Look what happened!” She never took a breath or a pause with her accusations until help came and took the unconscious child to the hospital. As Ai Lin was getting berated, she averted her eyes to the floor where she saw a foamy pile of pasty vomit, slightly green and light brown. She never found the rest of her birthday chocolates.

The weight of condemnation and guilt afflicted Ai Lin with a slouch that stayed with her throughout her childhood. Hunched on the hospital bench, the doctors were at a distance explaining to her mother that her brother was fed industrial grade detergent which dissolved much of his oesophagus and feeding is only possible through a tube into his stomach. Since he could no longer push food down after swallowing, a hole was opened at his throat to allow macerated food to be thrown away if he ate anything. Hospital, school, home, hospital, school, home. For years, that was Ai Lin’s daily routine that she committed to because of the guilt she bore. Ai Lin’s mother never verbally accused her for what happened but like Ai Lin’s grandmother, she was a woman of action and it was clear to Ai Lin from the cold treatment that she would have to live with this blame as long as she was under her mother’s care. For her parents, there was a single mission that required all their energies, making money to survive. No energy was invested to seek justice for this attempted murder, it was easier to accuse a child of neglect and resume their day jobs unabated by guilt. Ai Lin never returned to Pagoda street to nap on her grandmother’s lap again. During the years spent caring for her brother, Ai Lin’s grandmother passed on and along with her, little Ai Lin’s final bastion of kindness.

On the third January that came to pass since that evening at Pagoda street, Ai Lin purchased a box of Choco Mini from a provision shop along the way to the hospital. In those 3 years, her brother had finally learned how to speak. Since there was no need to drink or eat, his lips were always cracked, his tongue was constantly dry and he croaked more than he spoke. Ai Lin’s birthday had just passed but her brother’s was just a few days away and his wish this year was to taste chocolate for the first time. She remembered her first encounter with chocolate and wanted her brother to experience that same euphoria. When Ai Lin entered the ward she wasted no time unwrapping the box and popped 2 pellets onto her brother’s pale tongue. The pellets were tiny but his mouth was opened wide in anticipation. Just like Ai Lin was when she had her first taste, his eyes dilated in pleasure of the taste of sugar. He reframed himself from chewing, letting the pieces slowly dissolve with what little saliva he had. With much straining, he finally swallowed and Ai Lin fed him more chocolate, as much as he wanted. Each time he swallowed, a paste would excrete from the hole at his throat, it was slightly green and light brown. Ai Lin thought she had seen this messy paste before but before she could remember, she wiped it away quickly before it stained her brother’s hospital gown. This continued until he had his fill, all the time Ai Lin smiling silently at her brother while he was engrossed in this fascinating thing called chocolate. Just for a moment, time seemed to have slowed to allow them a chance to linger. Perhaps only he knew that he would fall asleep for the last time that night and this was his final wish fulfilled.

I sometimes wonder why justice was never served for what can be considered murder. It was truly a different time back then and I am thankful that my mother remains kind and gentle till today despite what she had to go through. Again, I appreciate you for reading till the end and would leave you with something to consider doing this lunar new year’s celebrations. Some of us will have the opportunity to spend extended time with our parents over the holidays, I can’t think of a better time to ask about their life stories. Maybe you will be able to see them beyond their roles of being your parents and maybe more love and empathy can come into your relationships this year.

Sincerely,

Tiramisu.

Chapter 1 - Choco Mini

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