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Fear
of Driving
"AH-SHIAU CHIEN, everything you do will be a failure.
You'll never be able to have a successful career. You'll have a failed marriage that will
eventually lead to a divorce and you'll live an unhappy, lonely life. And worst, you'll be a victim of an accident before
your natural life expires." My maternal grandfather looked at my palm and the piece of paper in front of
him. He shook his head with grave concern and gave me this verdict which has stayed fresh in my mind to this
day.
I lowered my head with shame. Although I was barely
eleven years old then, I understood what a doomed fate meant to me, as a girl, and as a
woman. Tears were at the edges of my eyes, but I held them back because it
wasn't proper to cry in front of the elders.
My maternal grand father had just studied the Chinese
art of predicting the future by diagnosing the characters in names, the birth dates, birth time and
the palms. The most important task for him then was to predict the future of his grandchildren, for they
were his descendants who would need to be protected and nurtured properly so that they could carry on the
bloodline.
When he finished his analysis, he told us and our
parents of our fate. Everyone else's was quite all right, except mine.
"Ah Ma, please do something to help her avoid this bad
fate as much as possible," pleaded my mother. She was very upset.
My father and the rest of
the family were distressed too. Like other Chinese, they saw young death as a bad
omen. A young ghost would haunt the family forever for letting her die so young. Divorce was unheard of; it
was an alien thing that occurred only in American and Hong Kong movies. Divorced women were seen as bad
wives, mothers and daughters-in-law because their families didn't bring them up properly with the right
values and attitudes.
Like other girls in my neighborhood who were
increasingly given the chance to attend schools, I was expected to find lifetime employment such as
schoolteaching, that would benefit an educated woman. To fail in my expected teaching career meant that I
would get sacked by employers or that I would be too inept to find employment.
"The only way to help her is to change her name." Grandfather replied after a long contemplation.
He came out with a few names for me that either retained the first character Shiau (small, tiny) or the
second character Chien (beautiful silhouette). Then he spent a few weeks studying them together with my birth
details and the major lines on my palm. Finally, he gave me a new poetic name Chin (green -denotes
peace, growth and hope) Chien which would, he hoped, turn my fate around.
Since then, my Chinese name has been "Choong Chin
Chien," My parents thought that it wasn't important to change the name "Chong Sheau Ching"
on my birth certificate, a name mistranslated from "Choong Shiao Chien" in Hakka to Malay by the birth registrar, I
became the only "Choong" in my family who is a "Chong" because the registrar had dropped the "O" in my surname
by mistake. Thus, "Chong Sheau Ching" appears in my identification document and official
documents. In my travels to many countries, people have been confused with my names until I tell them why. Since
most people have difficulty pronouncing "Sheau" and "Chin Chien", I ask them to call me "Ching Ching,"
which undoubtedly has added more confusion. I have lived uneasily with my names ever since my
grand-father's verdict. Even during the most life-threatening situations, my mind wondered, "is this
the moment of truth about my old name coming true? Is this the moment when my new name changes it around?"
Those tears that I never shed have transformed
themselves into dark fears hidden underneath the confident and capable self that I present to the
outside world. The persistent fear of death is one of the reasons why I have never learned to drive. Deep
down inside me, I am afraid of disappointing my family by driving myself towards a fatal accident, thus
fulfilling the prophecy of my old name. I also fault my old name for barriers in my life. A
friend once told me she had observed that I seem to have some kind of unexplainable drive to strive hard
despite setbacks. Although I denied this, I knew the drive stemmed from the
fear that the prediction of failure would come true. Despite several achievements,
I cling to people in my relationships because I fear loneliness. I did not want to admit to myself that these dark fears
have been very real in my life until I began to write over a year ago. As I write and
detail how women I have met in many countries went through their lives, I begin
to realize the meaning of what I saw, what I didn't see, and what I'm seeing.
Some of these women lived with the destinies they were
born with, such as their castes and classes, with a fierce strength because they didn't want
their children to relive history. Some of them met life's tremendous sorrow with inner peace and
emotional balance because they still wanted to fulfill their roles properly; some of
them saw adversities as temporary setbacks because they believed that God was telling them that they had to
change for the better. Some of them let their destinies totally control them, and they refused to do anything
to help themselves because they were too afraid to make changes. Others did not realize who they were until
fate had the upper hand because they could not see beyond their miseries or apparent
happiness.
There is one thing that has come clear to me—We are
born to die and our lives are determined by destiny. How we take what destiny gives us is our
choice. We can make the best of what destiny offers us or we can passively let destiny lead us to the end points of our
lives. We can either wipe away our tears and try to look for laughter or let the tears dry slowly, leaving
salty trails on our cheeks. I can't help but wonder how much of my past, present
and future has been determined by my old name, and how much of it has been and will be turned around by my new
name. Did Grandfather forget to tell me the good aspects of my old name and the bad aspects of my new
name? Are my dark fears the remnants of my childhood fright because no one
did anything to alleviate my fear? Or are they the testimonies of my inability to
see beyond the surface of what destiny offers me? Should I drive myself to meet those fears head on or
should I remain sitting in the passenger seat And watch destiny drive me around?
I am still thinking.
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Malaysian
Voices 