THE SPIRIT OF LOVE AND UNDERSTANDING

GOOD pistol-slinging westerns seem to be yesterday's pleasure. Perhaps no single actor best symbolises the American Western than John Wayne, who starred in more than 140 movies during his lifetime.
I was at Connemara in County Galway, Ireland, recently to enjoy the spectacular scenery, craggy mountain peaks, expansive beaches and laced network of lakes when I was pleasantly informed that it was the shooting location of The Quiet Man, starring the legendary John Wayne.

The Quiet Man is a simple tale of a disgraced boxer returning from the United States to Ireland, his homeland, only to find love in a fiery damsel.
It is a story about differences in culture and the things that matter. Mary Kate (Maureen O'Hara) is cheated of her rightful dowry when she marries Sean (John Wayne).
Sean unschooled in Irish customs, does not think much about the dowry, but Mary Kate is obsessed with obtaining it. To Mary, the dowry represents her independence, identity and pride.

This leads Mary to despise her husband when he does not stand up for her and she brands him a coward. But all's well that ends well when Sean realises his error.
That tale makes me wonder: How well do we know the customs of other people?

We often take for granted about living in a multiracial country like Malaysia where customs are so varied yet we find similarities in values -- in the love of food and in the united focus of keeping peace.

The fact that we live side by side or interact at school or the workplace is a real help towards tolerance and acceptance.
But when one is studying or living in another country, the chasm of differences in values, culture and customs widens. It takes more than understanding to live alongside each other.

I have also noticed that minority races tend to "look out for one another". I have been a frequent customer at an Indian curry stall at the local Sunday farmers' market.

Last week, when I bought a tub of chicken korma, the foodseller smiled and gave me a tub of curry potatoes for free. I noticed that he did not give freebies to other non-Asian customers.

It takes a saintly and bigger than life ability to adopt, adapt or assimilate the new. Psychologists say there are four phases of adapting to a new country.

Stage 1: Euphoria period, a fascination period where everything is new and exciting. It is a brave new world and you are willing to try anything once.

Stage 2: Disenchantment, frustration or irritation and hostility. This usually takes place within the first six months where you may feel depressed about the difficulties you face and you may experience mood swings, feeling happy one day and sad on another.

You may be nice to a person one day and attack him the next day.

Loneliness and missing your country of origin and everything that you are familiar with is very real.

Stage 3: Gradual adjustment or recovery. This is the period where you gradually get involved in the community and have a better understanding of the new country and a broader sense of what you would like to achieve.

Stage 4: Acceptance, adjustment or acculturation where you are quite settled and you no longer regret having come to the new country.

Some of my loved ones in Malaysia are booking tickets to come spend spring with me in Ireland. It is a wonderful feeling when the people you care for come together.

I can see my dining table laden with roast meat and spuds alongside satay, ketupat and teh tarik. Necessity has compelled me to improvise, and Malaysian dishes can still be concocted in an Irish kitchen.

As we wait for the first buds of spring to bloom, the Malaysian spirit of love and understanding lives.

So, as I stood on the Connemara stone bridge, built on layer upon layer of ancient stones, I peered at the river bank below. I knew it was the bridge that John Wayne crossed and I imagined his footprints that were left on the river bank when he finally understood the meaning of love and understanding.

THE CYCLE GOES ON

I WAS reading Dr Gabriel Fitzpatrick's account of a six-month volunteer assignment in Chad, Africa -- his first mission with the international medical aid agency Medecins Sans Frontieres (Doctors Without Borders).
Dr Fitzpatrick, a public health specialist from Aughnamullen, County Monaghan, Ireland, worked in a small tent hospital in Africa looking after children who were malnourished.

Like Dr Fitzpatrick, I had always wanted to be a medical doctor but abandoned the idea when I could not dissect a frog in Form One. Till this day, I cannot dissect anything that is alive or drugged. I also wanted to be a missionary but did not have the guts.

So I became a teacher instead. I reasoned that whether I became a doctor, a missionary or a teacher, I would still be of service to the community and hoped to inspire someone along the way.
Dr Fitzpatrick wrote: "This week, among many admissions, a young mother arrived with twins. She had not eaten for a while. The twins were a haunting sight. Tiny skeletons wrapped in a fine film of skin. Their hair, brownish in colour, fell out too easily when touched. I struggled to remain composed as I examined them. I could see their small chests rise and fall with the breathing cycle."

A cycle is specific. King Solomon in all his wisdom wrote that there is a time for everything. A time to give birth, and a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill, and a time to heal. A time to tear down, and a time to build up. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

A cycle is also repetitive. We experience the continuity of days, weeks and months in a year. Chinese all over the world have just ushered in the Year of the Rabbit only this time I am away from home. It takes 12 years for the rabbit to reappear in the lunar calendar.

Although I do not believe in the Chinese horoscope, a cursory glance at the characteristics of those born in the Year of the Rabbit renders interesting information. They are private individuals but are reasonably friendly and enjoy the company of a group of good friends.

They are quite calm people who do not exhibit aggressive behaviour. Intelligent and quick, they also like artistic ventures, such as painting and music and are generally quite present in these worlds. Among the many professions, they excel if they are doctors or musicians.

Perhaps, Dr Fitzpatrick was born in the Year of the Rabbit.

Twenty-four years ago my eldest daughter was born in the Year of the Rabbit. Now that she is busy walking up and down the wards of a hospital and plays the piano when she can find time, her mother's heart is aglow with pride.

This tells me that I must have done something right, to challenge her to pursue her dream and to imbue her with a sense of servitude and responsibility. As far as I can remember, she never had any other ambition except to be a doctor. I hope she would become a doctor with a heart big enough to embrace challenges across borders.

Finally, a cycle is also continuous. Like any article that we read, I searched for a good ending in Dr Fitzpatrick's story.

He wrote, "I wish I could tell you both twins survived. The baby girl recovered, but four days after arriving at the hospital, the little boy died. The mother softly kissed his forehead and holding him in her arms released a scream that scared everybody. The nurses were crying. I was numb. We all continued with the job."

In this case, despite the emotional setbacks of reality in the nameless hospital in Africa, work still has to be done. The cycle goes on. How true.