Hill-Top Muses
After our morning cycle, we spent the second-half of the day wandering the streets of Air Itam. My mother and I spontaneously decided to hike Penang Hill under the unforgiving afternoon sun, since it was located on the way back to Georgetown. Just to spice things up a little, I led us through a secret hiking trail that most tourists wouldn't take. Little did I know, unusual paths also come with unusual encounters.
During our ascent up the 60-degree slope, the first person we met on the trail was an old Chinese uncle, seemingly tending to some loose shrubs on our left. He turned to smile at us. We were the only people on this trail route. Uncle's eyes followed us with curiosity as we walked in his direction. When we were closer, uncle extended his free right hand towards me and beckoned me to him, saying: “你很好，你很好” （ “you’re very good” x2 ), giving me a thumbs up and shaking my hand gleefully. Until now, I’m not quite sure what uncle meant by those words; maybe we reminded him of his family whom he didn’t contact often. He then leaned in and gave me a quick, boney side-hug.
My mother eyed us and reached out her hand to tug me back to her side as we picked up our hiking speed.
When he was a few metres behind us, she whispered: “He’s holding a Parang!”
I was still confused. “A what?”
“Can’t you see the blade on his left hand?!”
I turned back and glanced at the long-ish, rusty, blunt Malay knife he was using to trim his shrubs and tried to recoil a laugh.
This is something I can only experience out of Singapore; Being hugged by a stranger — who was clutching a Parang — at the bottom of a deserted hill in the centre of Penang Island, on a humid weekday afternoon.
I live for stories like these.
This experience accentuated the fact that people can have completely different reactions in response to the same situation.
For one, I didn’t sense any danger or ill-intent from the uncle, merely perceiving his behaviour as a friendly attempt to connect with a fellow human who was headed in the same direction. My mother, on the other hand, was busy scanning for danger on my behalf. Essentially, I reacted from a place of curiosity and naivety, while my mother’s immediate reaction was to get us away from potential “dangers” in our midst. Her maternal instincts told her to protect her child at the first sight of uncle's Parang, so she hastily dragged me away.
The Route
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During the hike, we were occasionally faced with two diverging paths and resorted to asking the locals for directions. Fortunately, by 6pm, we finished the hike alive and unscathed, but utterly exhausted. If only it wasn't so humid!
What I've Learnt
So, is the moral of the story to stave clear of old Chinese uncles who cross paths with you on a very ulu (aka. deserted) hill?
For better or for worse, that wasn't my biggest takeaway.
Rather, it was the experience of a mother’s natural proclivity to safeguard her young. She may be likened to the sun; We don’t always pay attention to it, but it is ever present, ever influencing, and ever warming.
Our mothers are always, silently watching over us.
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