As a child, I attended the Wesley Methodist Church located on top of the hill at Methodist Boys School in Kuala Lumpur. I would hop into the grey Opel that belonged to my best friend and neighbour, Carol's father. At 7am on Sunday, we would drive from our link-house to the heart of KL. We'd first drop her mum, Aunty Patsy to the Catholic Church opposite Tong Shin hospital, then drive along Pudu bus station and make two lefts towards the national stadium area on top of the hill. I attended Sunday School and service, and later found my belonging in a band as one of the three "shoo-be-do-bah" back-up girls. My parents were not the church-going type (they now are!) and since completing Form 5, I've not returned to church.
Only recently, I'm reminded of my foundations in Christ. I failed to give the Christ credit for being a strong part of my life during those early days. I also give thanks to Reverend Dutton and my neighbours, the Duttons in Bangsar. We had a great time growing up in Bangsar in the 1980s. You could say it was rather grand! We would play badminton in lane ways, I would ride my Shimano racer bike to piano lessons and back, and I'd walk swiftly (as we were afraid of hantu Kum Kum, an urban legend about a vampire lady who would seek out vestal virgins and sick the blood from their necks, leaving to bleed to death at bus stops) with my best friend and neighbour, Carol to the night markets every Saturday. It was a 20-minute walk that seemed like forever. Perhaps our legs were shorter then. We would go and be social at the night market, "bumping" of so serendipitously into school teachers and friends from school.
"Oh ... Hello! You also here ah?
I see... We just arrived. See you on Monday!"
Cakes, buns, a bag of Assam Boi and a drink in hand, we would gayly traipse back home with our treasures. I remember one time, we walked and walked and it seemed like forever. We walked past the Mobil petrol station. Then suddenly, we thought we saw the branches of the tree above us moving. It was KumKum! She was out to get us this time! And so Carol and I ran as fast as we could. We ran past one street sign, and ran across another street sign so fast it disappeared, then finally arrived at our street. The other end of a horseshoe road. Then we ran up the street! No. 197, no. 185, no. 173, no. 161, no. 159 and finally to no. 145 at Carol's house, then no.139 at my house. We were spared this time. How lucky! I swore I had never run so fast before. Oh except possibly during sports day when I ran against the seniors in the 200m sprint.
Our childhood was full of adventure and obedience... to some degree.
On this note, I shall leave you with this article I found on the Internet. I don't know the author, neither do I dare say it's 100% correct. But reading it reminds me of Sunday School and its one of those days today. Reminiscent of my church Sundays, I'm happy to share this piece on "Breaking the curse of Poverty". Please copy and paste the following address into yr address bar:
http://www.destinedtowin.org/pdf/BREAKING%2520THE
%2520CURSE%2520OF%2520POVERTY.pdf
Thanks.
