The Widow’s Mite

Despite not having much herself, B.S.K. (her initials, since she would prefer to remain anonymous) is my idea of the Parable of the Widow's Mite, generous and having the welfare of the less privileged at heart. She rang me and walked to my unit in Q Block from her unit a few blocks away, with some money, biscuits and other tidbits.

"Please hand these food items to Sylvia Hyams and please give her this money," she said. So I took the items and angpow to Sylvia when I went with other Tiarans and some members of the Evergreen Club of SS4, Petaling Jaya to send some Christmas cheer to the Hyams family on December 18th. (See story in previous issue of TT)

A few days later, BSK told me that she rang the Phillys Caring Home and spoke to the care-giver, Phillys Pillay, asking what the inmates needed. She was told that the old residents of the Home needed cabbage, lean pork, sardine or fresh sausages. She would go marketing for these items for them one of these days,she said.

And on January 5th, I took BSK to Paramount Garden to locate Uncle Loh. Luck was with us, since not only did we find easy parking but a lady there pointed out the man outside the Mediviron Clinic. Walking up to the elderly man sitting on the pavement,we asked whether he was Uncle Loh. Indeed he was, he smiled, brandishing a crisp new RMl note which someone had just given him. He was as pleased as Punch.

What would he like for lunch, we enquired. Char Kway Teow at the stall over there - pointing to the stall - would be nice. "And could I have everything - the koo chye, cockles, but not too hot, please," he requested. He informed us that it would cost RM3.50, "and please put it into a white plastic box for me." For his drink he wanted soda,"in the blue can, and a plastic bag with some ice. It is so hot today," he explained as he sat shirtless in his shorts.

Trotting off to get his lunch, we soon returned with it, and Uncle Loh tucked into his kway teow immediately, since that was his first meal of the day, at noon. "But if I was not given this, I have a dollar to buy something to eat," he confided.

I asked how old he was, and was told 67. With more questions, I was informed that he once worked in Singapore, a long time ago, getting a salary of S$270, before it was dropped to S$230, after which a relative took him to Kuala Lumpur, where he has been ever since. His sparse education did not enable him to get a good job, "but I get by. I take a shower every day, and I can sleep there," he said, pointing to the former Ruby Theatre grounds. In the day, he is often outside the Mediviron Clinic, "since no one disturbs me here. Over there," pointing to a place further on, "people harasss me, so I prefer to be here."

His full name is Loh Yew Nan, he said, and wrote it down for us in English and Chinese. Next to him were his worldly belongings, a couple of folded towels, some old newspapers, part of a torn exercise book and a bottle of water.

All along, as we sat on the pavement talking to him, a couple of men watched us with beady eyes less than five feet away. We were afraid of leaving him with more money, fearing the men may snatch the notes from him, so we left him with a few RM1 notes, with the promise that we would pay him another visit soon.

May you be blessed, BSK, for your kindness to all these disadvantaged souls mentioned in the December issue of Tiara Times.