“When I was young I was horrible at Mathematics. I couldn’t even count, and when I used the calculator I could still get simple additions wrong. As a child my mother kept saying I am stupid. She was very worried.
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One day, I was going to Maths class and panicking again. I was almost Form 3 then. I met a very good Maths teacher. The first time a teacher didn’t tell me I was stupid at maths. In fact she asked me to question whether 2+2 was 4. Or flipping the numbers around 6 or 9 was a very understandable mistake. The numbers suddenly didn’t seem formidable. The numbers felt more like my friends. I don’t know what I did, because I didn’t have remedial class, or did extra exercise. I simply trusted in the teacher. When she said everyone was possible in the world of numbers. I believed her. She never said if my calculations were wrong. She simply asked me to rearrange it so it was more understandable to people.
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Suddenly, maths became a subject I was good at. I was never good at any subject, so it felt like a very new experience to me. And maths remained the only good subject I had in school. I only wanted to play with numbers, and not pursue it academically, so I deemed becoming a Mathematician was not for me. But I could apply it to calculate forces! To understand if things would fall down, or what would cause dents, or what would allow structures to keep together. I could do that. so when Form 6 came and I had to choose what profession to become, I chose engineering. I was rather lucky. I never had another path I would rather want more (say something ideal which I called Path A), or a back up path (which I would only do for money say Path C). Engineer was my Path B and fitted me just perfectly. It was heaven not to have doubts.
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Everything was so smooth all the way. I became a structural engineer, the kind of engineer to calculate forces to ensure that a building held up together. It was quite a reputable path in the field of engineering.
When I graduated, I got hired by one firm. Only one accepted me, so there was no need for choice. It was a mid tier firm, nothing too big, nothing too small.
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When I was there, I did not only concern myself with paper work. I had to site visit a lot, and that was when I really became concerned about others, and how site safety was very important. Before I only cared about whether the buildings I made were safe and would last. Later I learned that the process of making the building was also important. Construction workers had a tough job, and they always had to stand whether the weather was good or bad. They had to stay until a given hour. I always felt bad about that, and tried to ensure that I did all my checks as quickly as possible, without compromising the safety aspect, to ensure they could leave on time.I always reminded them about the site safety, and that safety came first.
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I was well respected in the sites, and my boss trusted me. It was the prime of my career and I was around 30. The only thing missing in my life was a companion. I was in no way religious but I prayed to God, or whatever name you would give it. I prayed that he would give me someone to pour my heart to, to understand, to become one with.
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And then god answered my prayers, again! There was no need for choice. It was as natural and obvious when she appeared the scene. I was doing one of my usual site visits, and I saw her. One of the hottest construction workers. Fixing the concrete. As I talked to her, I realise she was also single and interested in me. Match made in heaven! At first my family opposed because they thought we were apart given our education. A construction worker? Plus her skin was very dark and by no means a fair beauty in the traditional standard. Her hair was messy and short, almost like a monkey. However, she wowed me in terms of her maturity and her knowledge in books, art and music. She would spend her free time reading Les Mis on the phone. I asked her, did she feel that her job was wasting her talent? Would she not rather be curating a museum? But she answered me firmly, I enjoyed building tall buildings for people to live in. It made me feel alive to be so close to the concrete jungle. I felt my heart beat as one with the cityscape.
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My safety is in your hands. She said, as she held my hand for the first time, as we were walking on a building that was in mid phase construction. There were no walls, only a skeleton of a building and there was dangerous holes on the floors. Holes you could fall into and drop to your death. We kissed there.
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As we dated more. I told her I wanted her to be my wife, and I wanted her to have an easier job, say working in the supermarket store, or a security guard. Something more fitting for a woman. We argued for the first time, she said she loved her job, and also it paid the bills for her brother.
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She had a young brother, and she was paying for the mortgage for an extra flat, so that the brother could get married one day with his first love. Eventually the brother did marry the first love, but he went out to play music with his friends and ended up hanging out with another woman. That was another story.
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I offered to help her out to pay the bills for her brother. But she refused. She insisted to do it all on her own. I kept telling her a construction site was not a place for a woman. I loved her too much perhaps, perhaps even more than I loved God.
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I was extra careful with the site safety of the site. Yet, an accident still happened. As if God was mocking me. Looked at all your efforts to protect your loved one. They all meant nothing. I did all the right calculations. I checked. But the metal beams fell in the construction site, and they hit her. She died.
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It was the only time I really doubted my ability to perform my job. And for the first time I had a problem in life. A problem I thought I was responsible for. An accident I could have prevented. Would I have been more careful, checked the fixation of the beams and how they were construed in the site, would they not fall? My boss said, it was only a minor mistake. Accidents happened in the site all the time. He reprimanded me but he said he would take full responsibility for the accident. There would be some damages involved and the company would be penalized a little. But in the long run, it would be nothing. My job would be secure.
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I thought so too. But my hands kept shaking. My heart kept palpitating when I went near construction sites. The noises of the sites, the sound of the pile driver, the sight of beams and long bamboos, all sent shivers down my spine. I went to see a doctor, and he claimed that I was physically all well. I was ok, nothing was wrong. So it must be psychological damage. There was no way I could step foot into a construction site again. I would run away like a baby, crying, shivering, getting headaches. What use was an engineer who could not step foot into a construction site? It was like a doctor who was afraid of blood. I quitted. The job I was once so proud of. The path B I knew was just for me. It ended. I prayed to god he would open a new path of me, to no avail.
“I was at an all time low in my life. I felt like has ended for me. The life I knew. The life I never questioned what I was supposed to do. Suddenly, I had nothing. I couldn’t do my job. I had no lover. I had no source of income. I went from someone respected, useful to someone society didn’t know how to help. I sat at home surfing facebook all day, watching clips that meant nothing to me. My friends all going on with their lives. It all felt so distant.
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It was then I got a free chewing gum from a friend. She came to visit me, and treated to dinner. “Life is a warm shower, but shampoo gets in your eye sometimes.” The friend said. Everyone needed a helping friend like that during their times of troubles.
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When I was chewing on the gum (it was grape flavored) later, I realised, there were all sorts of smaller things in this world to make our worlds smaller. And that was when the idea dawned on me. I could open a store with free snacks, that people could come, blow water with me freely or write my emails if they had troubles. I had no special skills, I can’t cook. I don’t play any instruments. I can’t speak other languages. But I can drive a car, manage some numbers, and I am good at talking to people. I could give people the things they need.”
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When Uncle Royce said all this, he was strolling on his phone, checking all the emails he received from people. He didn’t look at all moved. Sincerely, paper letters had a much better emotional quality than emails, but his phone looked a bit used and worn out.
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Aiya tucked his shirt and asked, “Uncle Royce how did you manage to get all these latest snacks, capsule toys, and collectibles? And why didn’t you charge people money?”
Uncle Royce said, “oh I have many good friends, and god treated me well, so I am giving back.”
“Then how do you pay rent?”
“That’s a secret, Aiya, I will tell you when you grow up.” And Royce smirked at us, an all knowing smile that I imagined God had when he looked at our mischiefs.
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