Love of duty

Duty - a word my paternal grandmother used a lot to insist how a person should behave. The trouble is when one is compelled to do something - which is invariably the case when it comes to duty - then the motivation is usually wrong, and the task is accomplished grudgingly and joylessly. Righteousness with no love, not a lovely sight. Much like how a Pharisee behaved, I would imagine.

I've always felt that way with regard to going to Malacca. An onerous trip that I HAD to undertake to take care of legal affairs for my mother and dead father. I have always found the place boring, with little appeal. However, this time, I decided to offer it up to Jesus and I asked Him to bless the time spent there.

It is no coincidence that this trip coincided with Epiphany, a time where the seeking Magi found the infant Jesus and honoured him as king with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. I experienced my own epiphany, that a-ha moment where I found something precious in an unlikely place.

Malacca is a place very dear to my mother's heart for her mother came from Malacca and she herself spent a portion of her childhood there (during the school holidays and the Japanese Occupation). She has many cousins there and she must have had a ball of a time growing up. It must've been a magical time for her - a time of carefree, childhood innocence.

This trip, I noticed how much my mother is in her element when she is there. She transforms into another person - a gregarious, confident nonya with a sense of mischief. Those of you who know my mother will know her as a sedate and quiet woman, not given to playfulness. Not someone, even as girl, that you would picture chasing her cousin around with a worm to tease her.

It was a delight to see how much she enjoyed interacting with her cousins, and as a consequence, I enjoyed myself very much. Her cousins are all lovely people - very hospitable and chatty so I was quite happy to shoot the breeze with them or just listen to them natter away in their patois of Malay, Hokkien and English, understanding about 80% of the conversation.

Her Malaccan friends are truly the salt of the earth as well, and I enjoyed hanging out with them and appreciate how much they have assisted my parents, and now, Mum, with the car and other matters. So it was a time flavoured richly with fellowship and goodwill.

It definitely helped that I had the opportunity to taste the most wonderful chendol at this obscure little weekend place (opposite lamp post 87 on Bukit Rambai) that my parents discovered through friends. And gorge on satay babi and nonya laksa. Yum. Only thing I didn't sample this trip was the satay celup. Yes, food is the carrot for me.

So duty can be something that one looks forward to and takes great pride in carrying out, especially when love is present in the action.