I grew up in Malaysia and spoke Malay, an island language related to Hawaiian. Malaysia was a British colony and became independent in 1957. Everyone born before 1957, I was born in 56,’ went to British schools. We were on the equator, 90 degrees all day, every day, and we read poems about daffodils and snow. No one explained what they were, we read as if were in England.
My mom and dad had maybe 5 years of school between them. School was not warm and fuzzy, it was foreign, unknowable, and suspect. So, they sent my aunt with me on the first terrifying day.
The classroom had French doors that opened to a veranda, my aunt stood where I could see her. My eyes were glued to her begging her not to budge, not even to go to the lady’s room, and she didn’t. She went when I went.
At the end of that first day, the teacher instructed parents to draw something on the left-hand side of every page in an exercise book. Between my aunt and I, we were sure it was kittens. My father was not so sure, but I was beside myself and my aunt was only a little calmer. So, my father sat down and drew a kitten on page after page in the book, in the only style he knew: real life.
The next morning, we showed the kittens to the teacher. Turned out, we were to draw margins! In those days margins did not come pre-drawn.
I was in dire straits.
A neighbor, Auntie Annie, whose grandfather was English came to the rescue. Not only did she speak English, she also taught her grandchildren after school. I joined them and thanks to her I began catching up. I started reading, writing, and speaking English, or rather Manglish.
Around that time, 1962, television began entering homes. Malaysia was a young nation with one TV station and no studios. Entertainment programs came from America. There were a few British programs but mostly they were American. (It thrills me that we were 10,000 miles apart and watching the same shows!)
I Love Lucy, The Andy Griffith Show, Bonanza, Get Smart! I remember an episode of The Beverly Hill Billies when Jethro fell in love with a certain young lady who kept a radio in her bra. Granny did not approve, the romance ended at the end of that episode, and I learned “music in her heart.” I was seven, giddy with pride that I got it. The music coming from her heart, a transistor radio nestled in her breast, romance, forbidden love, American funny, the English language!
And then there was the R double A, F (Royal Australian Air Force) radio station. They played the week’s hit song fifteen times a day. Heaven sent! My aunt with pencil and paper ready, frantically copied lyrics, or what we thought were lyrics. When we were happy with the words, she copied them in our songbook, and we sang nonsense.
You’re a devil in the sky. Oh yes you are, devil in the sky.
My aunt was a teenager in love with her cousin. We were from a conservative extended family, we did not get to meet boys, other than our cousins during family gatherings, and even then, “you can look, I can look, but cannot touch.”
She was lovesick, and Neil Sedaka spoke to her. You are the answer to my lonely prayer, you are an angel from above…I was so lonely till you came to me, with the answers of your love.
I was six when I sang this.
She decided to put me in a singing contest. At the time her favorite song was Constantly by Cliff Richard. Neither of us knew what constantly meant, and it was a bitch of a song to sing:
All day, I’m walking in a dream, I think about you constantly
Just like an ever-flowing stream, your memory haunts me constantly Here’s the hard part:
Just as sure as each star, keeps burning in the sky
Your love will stay a flame in me
A flame that burns so bright
not only through the night
but constantly…
I got consolation prize: a box of prunes.
