"Oh, Wednesday, I've to collect bread from the Community Centre. How about another day?"
"Huh. No no, this is a special day, you can collect bread another day. Aren't you TERRIFIED OF BREAD?" I asked, in mock drama.
"Ya, but the guy in charge of food distribution specially saves my portion for me. He tells me that every week, he puts my portion aside just for me."
Thus is the extent of Grandpa Zhou's consideration for others, and his loyalty. He keeps his word.
"Okay, on Wednesday, meet me here in the evening. We're going out for dinner!"
"Where to?"
"Anywhere you like!"
"Haha, I'll eat anything you eat. Just us?"
"No, I've invited 3 friends. 2 are a couple, of which the boy is the one who gave away all his New Year Day red packet money for your medical fees this whole year, and the other boy is someone who loves to help people too."
"I like to eat simple food. Very simple, because I have high cholesterol. Just bittergourd, or beansprouts, or fish soup. Simple food will do."
Bittergourd and beansprouts. Just the kind of food my father grew up eating. He used to tell us jokingly, it is a poor man's type of food, the cheapest one finds in the market.
"Okay, Grandpa Zhou, I've got to go, I bought milk and it'll go bad if I don't put it in the fridge soon."
"Oh, Wai Jia, look at this."
And he hands me a huge platter of sushi in a tray, with raw salmon and eel and egg and roe and the kind of topping I would never order because of its price. It was easily a twenty dollar platter.
" Yang ren (A Caucasian man) came and gave this to me. What is this? I don't eat raw fish, so here you go."
"It's sushi, Grandpa Zhou. This is good stuff! Haha, I don't eat raw fish either!"
The kindness of the Caucasian man touched me deeply even though I didn't see him. Yet, it was also a humbling reminder of the importance of connecting with the people we hope to bless. It reminded me, that to truly help, we must connect deeply enough to know the heart of the other person. (Grandpa Zhou doesn't eat raw fish!) This time, however, the language barrier must have been an issue and so I smiled at his kindness, this unknown man.
So Grandpa Zhou took all the sushi with cooked toppings, like egg and eel (I didn't tell him that was my favorite one!) and I took the loot home.
Before I left, he said to me, "Wai Jia, do you know what a bel-lor-ke is?"
"A bel-lor-ke?"
I thought it was some kind of animal.
"Oh!! You mean a BLOG!" I said in an epiphanous tone. "A blog! Yea, of course, I write one. It's like an online diary. I write about you, you know that right?"
"Yea. People know about me through your blog! Just some days ago, a girl called me Zhou yeye from behind, and I knew the voice wasn't yours. I asked her how she knew me, and she said she read your blog! Her name is Q, do you know her?"
"Haha, I don't! This is so funny! You're famous! A superstar!"
We burst out laughing.
It is always like this. Our conversations always start off with him showing me the receipts of his medical appointments, with us sharing a bit about our week, with a bit of food sometimes, with someone stopping to stare and overhear our conversation, and finally, prayer-usually me asking for some.
"Thank you for praying for my leg, Grandpa Zhou. I'm all healed. I went riding last night, I went so fast!"
"No pain at all?"
"Yup."
He nodded. He removed his cap and touched his bald head. I laughed, and so did he. "So shiny!" he cried, "I'll wear a cap on Wednesday for your friends okay? It's too shiny!"
We laughed some more.
"Grandpa Zhou, can you pray for me?"
"Of course."
"I am troubled by many things. I met someone lately. God made it very clear to me to go on a humanitarian weekend trip with him. But my folks say no. Too dangerous."
"Where to?"
"Manila."
"Oh dear. Ya, very dangerous. I concur. They just had the shooting incident there! Didn't you read?"
"I know, Grandpa Zhou. Everyone's been telling me how dangerous it is. But where is safety when there are needs? Often it's because of an unstable government and instability that results in children and people suffering. Where there is stability and ease to help, there won't be a real need for help. God has called me to this. Just like He called me to Nepal and all those other places that I went where there were earthquakes and political uprisings. This is not different. They said no before, but relented far later on. They don't seem relenting this time though. I want to respect them, but I am almost 24 and this is my calling. Therein lies the dilemma. "
"It's dangerous."
"I know. Precisely why the children are living in dumpsites and no one wants to go to that place. Precisely why they need help. Medical help. Cycling is dangerous. CROSSING THE ROAD is dangerous. It doesn't mean we don't do these things."
He sighed.
"Wai Jia... In this world..."
I cut him short. I was a little... angry, "I know, in this world, there're too many people to help right? I know. But those who are presented to us, we must. "
I was still a little overwhelmed by the course of things of late. All that helping- working on A Taste of Rainbow to reach out to people suffering from depression, working with students and the Deanery to come up with better mental health support for my faculty after my classmate passed away unexpectedly, M (an ex-patient) calling me up for twenty dollars, and the children of Manila whom my new-found photographer friend told me about. Just please, take a look at his album for one moment. I thought about my friend who told me I was foolish, that I ought to just sleep and wake up realising that I can't save this world.
I was a little angry. A little.
Grandpa Zhou was silent. He wrenched his fingers. I knew what he was thinking. It is dangerous. But God has given her signs to go. She is always taking risks to help people. But she has a point, it is those people whom others need to risk to help who are in dire need. I think she shouldn't help so many people. But... she helped me.
It was all over his face. It was in his coarse, wringing hands.
"Okay, " he relented. "I'll pray for you."
He never only says it. He always prays on the spot, aloud, unlike people who say I'll-pray-for-you as a nicey way to end a conversation.
"Dear Father in Heaven, please let Wai Jia go to Manila because she wants to help the people there. It is very dangerous, the situation there is very messy but I pray that you will protect her. Please help her help the children. Please make a way."
I had tea with Mr Ho, my ex-teacher whom Kitesong is dedicated to that afternoon. I shared with him my passion, my dilemma, because every significant event which happened in my life which was worthwhile pursuing came with resistance from authority. They said no to Nepal, no to Kitesong, no to Rainbow- and I understand. They were foolish requests. But I am foolish girl sold to this cause and I would rather die on the field than sit here sleeping every night thinking about children picking up trash to eat while I buy a soy latte from Starbucks. I cannot stand it.
My friend once commented that I am scary when I'm chasing the Big Boys on my bike. Well, it's because when I'm riding with the Big Boys, all that energy to keep up at 40kmph comes from the frustration of seeing the injustices of this world. It's pure injustice, and I hate it.
Mr Ho sent me home on his BMW motorbike. He was a little worried I wouldn't be used to the ride. What he didn't know was that I love motorbikes, with the wind in my hair and the crazy times in Nepal and Kalimantan I would ride pillion over the dirty roads and through small alleys.
"You're a natural," he said, a bit surprised.
I had asked him about Manila. "I need to be my own person, Mr Ho. And besides, isn't riding a motorbike when you've a wife and 2 kids dangerous?"
"Yea, it comes with risks. Knowing the risks helps you to be more astute and to deal with them. You've got to take other people's advice, but at the end, it's you who has to make your own choice. And suffer the consequences if need be."
I thought about the stack of letters I had determined myself to write to different people because I don't know when I'll leave. I might die on the road one day, or in the mission field. Somehow I never imagine myself dying in my sleep- it is always a dramatic, bloodsplattering, tragic end. And I want people to know that it was a good life. I enjoyed it and will enjoy afterlife even more. And to please put lots of rainbow-coloured balloons during my funeral with Coldplay and David Crowder playing in the background, and yes, to please publish whatever that was in the process of being published, ha.
"Okay, thanks Grandpa Zhou. Wait here for me on Wednesday, okay? You're a superstar, we'll get a car to fetch you. We'll have something simple and something nice."
"Okay."
And I scuttle off across the busy road, back to my home. Because they're roads we need to cross in life.
" So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything, and followed Him"
-Luke 5:11
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