Post by oldmike on May 27, 2007 8:07:08 GMT 7
Trouble and strife
By Rosie Milne
Last Updated: 12:01am BST 04/05/2007
I need a gin and tonic, pronto. I’ve just returned from shepherding 132 seven and eight-year-olds to one of Singapore’s outlying islands, Kusu.
I wasn’t doing this on my own, you understand, this was a Grade 2 school trip, and The Luscious Ladies were out in force, as were the Terrific Teachers. Even a couple of Dads turned up – although not The Banker, since he’s in Thailand.
I suspect the Dads agreed to come since the excuse for this jaunt was that Grade 2 is “doing explorers”, and should be given a taste of exploration. And what grown man could resist the temptation to mess about on a boat for a bit, whilst pretending to be Columbus? Or Magellan? Or Cheng Ho?
I’d never heard of Cheng Ho until about three weeks ago. But under the tuition of The Beloved Son, I can now rattle off that he commanded the Treasure Fleets, which explored the South Pacific, the Indian Ocean, the Persian Gulf and parts of the African coast, in seven voyages from 1405 to 1433, thus solidifying Chinese control over much of Asia in the 15th century.
I also know he was an eunuch, although not from The Beloved Son who may have picked up on this interesting fact too, but if so, he isn’t mentioning it at home.
Anyway, to add a touch of authenticity to proceedings, the school had hired The Cheng Ho, a traditional Chinese junk, to convey Grade 2 to Kusu.
My first responsibility of the day was to strap the four children under my care into their life vests. These were unlike any life vests I’d ever seen, and appeared to be two fluorescent orange pillows, tied together with string.
Oh well. The task of getting the life vests on was nothing compared to the horrors of stopping the children falling into the sea. But we’ll gloss over all that, and skip straight to our destination.
Kusu is Malay for turtle. According to legend, a giant sea turtle once saved two shipwrecked sailors – one was Malay, the other Chinese. The turtle brought both men safely to the island. In gratitude, they built a Chinese temple, a Malay shrine and a huge turtle sculpture. All of these still stand, indeed the Chinese temple is the first thing you see when you dock – it’s a peaceful complex of low, white walled buildings, with traditional red roofs, decorated with dragons.
My group had been assigned to explore Kusu’s manmade structures. Each child had a job: mapmaker; medic; architect; group leader. The Beloved Son was our group leader.
“Right then,” I suggested, thinking if you’d been told to explore manmade structures, and there was a Chinese Temple to hand, that’s where you’d start. “To the temple!”
“Don’t be ridiculous Mum.” said The Beloved Son, leading our party down the beach to the far end of the (not very large) island, where we found a sea wall.
The mapmaker marked it on her map, the architect took a photo, and the medic unpacked, and then repacked, her supplies for what proved to be the first of umpteen times that day. We had a little chat about erosion, then the children sketched the wall, and wrote about it.
All this classroom-style activity took place in a wooden shelter, at the edge of the beach. When they’d finished, it seemed obvious what to tackle next. “Okay,” I said, wafting my hand appropriately “what about this shelter?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mum!” said The Beloved Son, charging off to investigate a large buoy, or small lighthouse, off the tip of the island.
Eventually we made it back to the temple, which is dedicated to Tua Pekong, the god of prosperity. During the ninth month of the lunar calendar (usually October), thousands of Taoists throng Kusu, to pay him their respects. His temple doubles as a turtle sanctuary, and also houses, in distinctly rackety cages, two enormous pythons.
The turtle pools and snakes were so thrilling I couldn’t get the children to look at the buildings at all. Such fascinating altars! I’d cry. Or what d’you think this furnace is for? Answer: burning hell money and paper effigies of everyday goods for the dead to use in the afterlife. But I didn’t bother delivering this lecture, since The Beloved Son was banging on one of the python cages, trying to get the slumbering snake to do something exciting, the architect was photographing the turtles, the mapmaker was asking when it would be lunch, and the medic was, yet again, repacking her supplies.
The mapmaker’s requests for lunch were becoming ever more piteous, and eventually The Beloved Son was persuaded to leave the pythons, and find us a picnic spot. By the time we’d eaten, it was time to return to the good ship Cheng Ho, so my group of brave explorers never did get to see the Malay complex, but I’m told there are three shrines for fertility, prosperity, and a harmonious marriage – I must tell The Banker about that one, when he finally returns from Thailand.
Though I dutifully repeated the rigmarole with the fluorescent orange pillows, I was too shattered on the way home to maintain the vigilance of the outward journey. In such little matters as restraining my charges from falling overboard I let them get on with it. And why not? None of them did.
I must say I thought this trip was ambitious. But not nearly ambitious enough for some, it seems. A Luscious Lady has just phoned to report that when she asked her own Beloved Son where he thought his class would be going next, he replied that the Terrific Teachers would be taking Grade 2 to South Africa, where they’d stay for five nights, to learn about elephants and how to look after them.
Hmm. I don’t think I’ll be signing up as a parent-helper on that one.
Rosie Milne's novels How To Change Your Life and Holding The Baby are both published by Pan, they are available through Amazon UK.