Stories of KK

Their mysterious father. KK’s childhood is sketchy and vague. His constant rejoinder: I don’t want to remember it. Even I don’t know much about it apart from the fact that he was poor. Which is perhaps why he doesn't want to remember it. There are few photos of KK as a child. Actually there are only three, along with a total of three precious passport snaps. Two show him with animals. He’s always been an animal person. He likes them and they like him (unlike me). * Brother, father, KK * In Segamat, Malaysia, visiting the extended family * Ping Ping and An An ( 平 平 and  安安) On his childhood he said: “When I looked at my parents I know that I must work hard. I knew that I must depend on myself and not on them.” He grew up in a Boon Lay two-room flat, the middle child with an elder brother and younger sister. At night, swarms of flies and cockroaches would sometimes invade the flat. Till today he is terrified of roaches. Jumps on a chair when he sees one. He went to school at the now-...

The highlight of a trip is not always the best thing, it’s sometimes the worst. It was the mountain. Halla San is right smack in the middle of Korea’s Jeju Island and is the highest mountain in South Korea. Its 1,950m above sea level and is supposed to be very beautiful. Nobody said anything about climbing it. With ages from 5 to 76, our party was just going to sort of skirt around it. You know, take some photos and say we were there but not actually sweat. Then Teng got a bee in his bonnet. He had to climb it. We decided to split. The very old, the very young, the females and the sick would visit museums and drink coffee in warm cafes. Teng, KK and Day would climb the mountain. The big day, the boys emerged at 6am. The lady owner of our hostel Sylvia eyed the trio suspiciously, unsure if they were serious about it. Outside it was freezing and was about to rain. KK was clad in bermudas, a polo shirt, long-sleeved inner wear and thin-soled shoes completely unsuitable for a mountain trek...

What is a mid-life crisis? It, as Wikipedia defines it, is a time when adults realize their own mortality and how much time is left in their life. I think their papa is going through a mid-life crisis. He’s been doing Out-of-the-Ordinary Things the past year. Pulling out some research from the Net, these are the symptoms specific to him. It’s all athletic: * A desire to get into (even better) physical shape * Re-starting things which he had dropped years earlier, like windsurfing   and marathoning and skateboarding * Wanting to pick up new things like kitesurfing And buying new things like new bikes. From the perspective of a patient wife, it makes life interesting. Apart from the fact that I have a ton of dust-gatherers around the house – skateboard (used once), windsurfing equipment (used twice), a Saris bike rack for transporting bicycles on the car (never used), tennis balls and rackets (number of times used can be counted on one hand), rollerblades (still using), golf bag (sti...

Nine years ago, KK ran a marathon. He was 32. I was pregnant with Day, cheerfully plied him with bananas while he trained and even won a Runspirator (running inspiration) cash prize for a touching essay I wrote about a pregnant wife supporting her marathon-ing husband. This year, along with the other many post-40 bees which have suddenly buzzed into his bonnet, KK decided he wanted to run it again. The training, conducted over several months, was painful and tiring. It was patently clear that 41 is not the same as 32. One 20km practice run (he runs at night) and he sleeps at 8pm for a few nights after. Muscles require massage from the parlour across the road which happily closes at 2am. The cycling to work stopped entirely. Days before the run, he, consistent in his belief that one needs the best equipment to be at one's best, kitted himself out with new top, new shorts, new sunglasses, energy gels and beef jerky to munch on the run. He had also cannily roped in my brother Choon, v...

He’s really, really got it. The exam, passed on the fourth painful attempt, followed by the interview, and then the news that KK now qualifies as Er. (short for Engineer) Loh. All we really needed was the official statement and the pay raise (not yet), right. But what a big unexpectedly lavish event it was. It’s like a freaking convocation. How this country loves its engineers! Today, professional engineers, old and new, congregate at the Jubilee Hall in the Gardens by the Bay flower dome (it’s the event hall with a galaxy of balls on the ceiling) for the Professional Engineers Board Day of Dedication. There’s a newspaper supplement! A Minister who hands out the thick parchment scrolls to all the ‘new’ Ers! A very serious swearing-in ceremony in which all the ERs read aloud a 106-word pledge  (I counted) to “dedicate my service to the development of society…”! Everyone wears ties! (KK struggles to follow the Youtube instructions on his phone. I, well-versed in tying RGS school ties...

I had a good feeling, a really good one. I ran downstairs, two steps at a time, to collect the mail, something I only do once a month if I can be bothered. There, I saw the magic red words: Professional Engineers Board. These are the words I have seen, annually, for the past four years. I bounded upstairs, waved the letter around, KK’s eyes widened and he retreated straight to the kitchen. I couldn’t bear it either. I cut the letter open and passed it to Day who had just come out of the shower with the words: Don’t say anything, Day, don’t say anything! Day, green bath towel wrapped around his wet body, unfolded the two sheets. He read. And read. Jo joined in the letter party. She read and read. I finally mustered the courage to whisper: Did Papa pass or fail? Both looked up. “I don’t know,” both said. I grabbed it. I still couldn’t bring myself to read it. I got up and went into the kitchen. I handed KK the letter. He took it and stared. He looked at me. Only then I read. Oh my God. W...

We loaded up on meat in Darwin. Steaks, lamb, pork. * Choon's lamb Inspired, KK dreamt of making the perfect steak in-house. He watched Gordon Ramsey, he watched Jamie Oliver, he put them together and rehearsed in his mind the steak steps. First off, like most men would, he spent a bomb on a load of kitchen weaponry to prepare for the steak coronation. He bought a pepper mill, steak knives, nice forks, tongs, all from horribly expensive WMF. Of course I already have all these things in our kitchen. He only wants better ones. * In the back, my humble pepper next to the great silver WMF mill See, he needs great equipment to make great food. Then he asked me to buy inch-thick steak. Oh boy. Knowing him, I buy a terrific cut of beef, thickest slab I see. $22 for two pieces. Straight home after cycling, sweat still running down his face, he launches into his steak cook-out. Kids are all hyped up. It’s a big event with a whole lot of build-up. Day is the kitchen hand. Both boys had read ...