THE WONDERS OF BEES

I am afraid of bees, many of us are, partly because of ignorance or bad experiences with that insect with the sting.

When the Irish Countrywomen’s Association (Castletroy Guild) invited Gerry Ryan to give a talk on beekeeping, I was amazed at the wonder of the humble bee. Gerry Ryan and his wife Mary run the local ‘Ryan’s Fancy’ honey enterprise in Gortussa, Dundrum.

Every cell in the honeycomb is a perfect hexagon, meaning all six sides are of equal length. A masterpiece in engineering. This compact structure provides maximum storage space for honey and is more economical because it uses less wax for holding the cells together as compared to other shapes. Because of the perfect fit, the bees work simultaneously to put the cells together and there is no wastage of time. Every bee is industrious and has a unified vision.

I can’t help comparing this to a work situation where progress is halted because someone is holding the others up. That is terribly annoying especially in group work and far often enough there is that one person who doesn’t quite deliver.

There are 30,000 to 60,000 bees in each of Gerry’s hives every summer. Yet the bees do not attack each other or their own kind– only outsiders like mice, snakes or lizards who enter their hive and pose a threat. Sadly, humans are quite the opposite. There’s nothing that tastes better with a cup of tea like a good gossip. I often think that these people lead sad lives if they need to relish in talking about other people’s affairs.

It takes over a thousand bees to visit around four million flowers in order to make a kilo of honey. This honey is not only for present day consumption but also for their young. This reminds me of both short term and long term planning. One aspect of Asian culture which is like bee culture is that we learn the importance of saving from a young age. I am most surprised to hear that many young people here do not have savings and even if they have, it is short term saving to buy something. Maybe in a welfare state, the idea of saving is eclipsed by the expectation of handouts. With Christmas just over and children having received cash from doting relatives, I wonder if any child will put away some of it in the post office or bank?

It is interesting to note that flowers are colourful so that bees are attracted to them for their nectar and in turn their pollen will be distributed. Imagine a world without the need for pollination by bees. Then flowers do not have to be colourful and we will be living on a drab and grey earth instead!

Adaptation is key in the life of a bee. Bees communicate very well, using vibrations and pheromones. I think it is extremely important to belong to a community, to learn the culture and to be part of it. In almost all of the community and interest groups that I am in, I can safely say that I am the only Malaysian.

I am constantly surrounded by pockets of people who originated from other countries but now call Ireland their home - be they immigrants, refugees, students or working professionals - moving in their own little circles.  It is of course more convenient to huddle with people from the same country and speak in your native tongue, but we actually learn much more and become better people when we immerse ourselves in the lives of others who are not like us.

Beekeeping calls for respect and interdependency. I often wonder if man is robbing the bees of their honey, what will the bees and their brood feed on?  Because bee keepers provide the bees with a well protected home, the bees produce more honey than they need. This respect for nature seems to be lacking in so many human endeavours like indiscriminate tree felling or deep sea fishing.

The Federation of Irish Beekeepers’ Associations runs a one week summer course in Gormanston College for all levels of experience. However, many local associations also have beginners’ courses over the winter.

Beekeeping is an ancient craft and I am tempted to don that white bee keeper’s suit and add it to my list of hobbies.

But first I must overcome my fear of busy bees buzzing.

This article was originally printed in THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA 22 JANUARY 2017

http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/nstnews/2017/20170122nstnews/index.html#/23/

LIFE IS A BEAUTIFUL GIFT

When I was a child I would often accompany my parents to the cinema.

There were basically 4 cinemas in the town – Odeon, Sultanah, Rex and Cathay. Rex and Cathay were relatively far away, so we had to take a trishaw when we wanted to see a movie. Sultanah was old and the seats were infested with bugs. I remember to our horror that the bugs followed us home and my mother went through a rampage killing them off with DDT. Odeon was the best because it was near our house.

Going to the cinema was a treat especially when my father went along. There were no tickets for children, so if the cinema was fully packed, I had to sit on my father’s knee. I could also have a bar of chocolate or a slice of apple. The apple was especially nice as it was placed on a block of ice and had a skewer pierced through it. We did not have a refrigerator then, so anything that was cold was a novelty. The apple was also salty as the hawker had dipped it in salt to prevent oxidisation. However, when my mother brought us to the cinema, we were not allowed to buy chocolates or fruit because they were imported and expensive. Instead we had a bag of melon seeds which would go a long way through the show.

Movies in those days were not rated.

I practically watched anything that my parents wanted to watch, from horror movies to Shakespeare’s plays like Macbeth and Taming of the Shrew. My mother loved  ‘Oliver!’ a 1968 British musical drama film directed by Carol Reed. She particularly liked Ron Moody who played Fagin because she thought he was a brilliant actor. She read the Mandarin subtitles while I enjoyed looking at the costumes, the scenery as well as the handsome actors and actresses. That was the beginning of my love for English literature although much of the dialogue would have been lost on me because of the thick British accent.

There was one particular movie that I never quite understood and found it terribly boring. All I remembered was a man walking up and down the sea shore, reminiscing.

It was David Copperfield, the 1969 version, directed by Delbert Mann and starred Robin Phillips in the title role and Ralph Richardson as Micawber.

So I watched it again on Youtube and it was really nostalgic especially when infused with the memory of me sleeping through the movie and my mother having to carry me home.

These are the lovely things of our childhood.

 It is a pity the human mind cannot remember all the good stuff of the past. It would be quite a journey if I could go through the diaries that I had written or the stuff that I had made from popsicle sticks and match boxes. All lost because of the moving of houses.

There were also very few photographs then because to own a camera or to go to the photo studio was quite a big thing.

It is strange how time creeps up on you – going through childhood, then the teenage years before becoming an adult and then having a family of your own. Sometimes we forget how fast time flies until it hits us that we have actually gone through so many days, weeks and years.

For some there is a favourite segment to call ‘the best years of my life’. It is difficult for me to identify which years are better because with every season, there are precious memories. I thought my childhood was wonderful until I experienced the excitement of being a teen. Then I thought my university years were the best, only to realise that nothing beats the joy of being a mother. Now that the children are adults themselves, I wonder what new things will I experience next?

Ray Bradbury in Dandelion Wine says, “I want to feel all there is to feel, he thought. Let me feel tired, now, let me feel tired. I mustn't forget, I'm alive, I know I'm alive, I mustn't forget it tonight or tomorrow or the day after that.” 

If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you using  Emile Zola’s words:  I came to live out loud. It is to stay true to my principles, to live and give passionately and to experience new things. Most of all it is to be at peace and to love my oldest friend, someone who has been with me since birth, someone who has walked with me in my shoes, someone whom I call, ‘Myself’.

This is the beginning of a new year. I have lived through many ‘new’ years and I will not take for granted that I’m going to live many more. I have experienced love and sadness, joy and pain and as long as there is breath, I will be awash with emotions and feelings and thoughts and memories.

Life is a beautiful gift. 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA 8 JANUARY 2017

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2017/01/202682/life-beautiful-thing

SAILING INTO THE NEW YEAR

With cold winds and possibly snow threatening to make an entrance, it was a rare fine day to see 12 swans swimming with cygnets in tow. Watching nature is a lovely past time and you just can’t go wrong there.

The adult swans (cobs and pens) in the flock were making loud honking noises, piercing the quietude of the air. Whooper swans are winter visitors to wetlands throughout Ireland from October to April. It was a treat to behold and the fact that there was no one in sight except Hachi, my Labrador and I made it all the more special.

It reminds me of The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White.

This is a story about a special friendship between Sam Beaver, an 11 year old boy and a mute swan called Louis. To overcome his disadvantage, Louis learns to read and write but he still could not communicate with other swans because the rest are illiterate. Louis tries to woo Serena, a beautiful pen, but cannot attract her attention because he has no voice. Louis’s father purposefully crashes into a music store in Billings, Montana to steal a brass trumpet on a cord to give to his son so he can play taps, reveille and mess call. Louis even composes a love song for Serena and goes so far as to persuade Sam to split one of his webbed feet with a razor blade, making "fingers," so he can play more notes. 

This may be just a story but isn’t it beautiful to see how we try to overcome all odds?

There is a lovely poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on the journey of life and the strong resolve of a determined soul.

“One ship sails East and another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
Tis the set of the sails, and not the gales,
That tells the way we go. 

“Like the winds of the sea are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
Tis the set of the soul, that determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.”

Far too often we quench the fire within before it can even be played out. We blame it on fate or destiny for things happening not the way we wish for. I admire people who set attainable goals and know how to reach them. I admire people who are at peace with themselves because they are thankful and they have overcome many insecurities.

But how do we reach the state where we no longer strife? Why do we have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in our hearts?

When we have worked very hard for the most parts of our lives, then we must treasure the days that we no longer need to go to the office. I have so many people coming up to me suggesting that I commercialise my hobby crafts. At what expense? I treasure the pleasure and the freedom of a stress free life. No one ever says ‘I have enough money’. Maybe the fear of not having enough money is the trap that keeps us running on the wheel like a hamster.

As we come to the close of another year, it is the perfect time of the year to look back and see what we have done right this year and where we have gone wrong. Just like garden beds being put to rest, quiet moments spent going through our thoughts provide unexplainable strength and calm. It is the time to re-affirm ourselves, take note of our good points and plan how we can give more than receive. We can also look at our list of  friends and acquaintances – keeping some and letting some go.

Far too often pay more attention to things and people who do not matter as much. It takes a lot of planning to make sure that our days are well-lived and the people we love know that they are loved. After a while the planning becomes so natural, it becomes a part of you. We need to be replenished, to be rejuvenated. I always tell the beloved before I sleep that I look forward to tomorrow because I know today has been well spent and tomorrow promises more.

Back to E.B. White’s story about the swan. When Sam Beaver is about 20 years old, he is again camping in Canada, and hears Louis playing taps to his children. He writes in his journal: Tonight I heard Louis's horn. My father heard it, too. The wind was right, and I could hear the notes of taps, just as darkness fell. There is nothing in all the world I like better than the trumpet of the swan.

Like Sam Beaver, there is nothing in all the world I like better than to be thankful for the moment.

Have a happy new year.

This article was published in the NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA on 1 January 2017.