Forthnights

I had an interesting conversation the other day.

I had gone down to Manchester city to meet up with my girlfriends aunt, who stays in the UK. They had been the reason I was able to continue my education to this point in life, and it felt every bit my duty to come visit them.

She came with her husband and daughter; they were in town to visit the university there for their daughter's enrolment into university. She and I sat down for lunch together, and I updated her on what was happening back home in Malaysia before I left, mostly concerning her niece and nephew. We also talked a little bit about my mother, and she related to me how her best friend suffered from the same illness, with similar diagnosis. Her best friend was wealthy, but it made very little different to the situation. As she told me all the things she went through, weathering her friends relapses over many years, it sounded uncannily like my own experiences with my mother; during relapses, she would be very mean, selfish and hurtful, but really wonderful when she is well.

We also spoke about my employment with my current boss and the financial sponsorship I gained through her. I thanked her profusely for opening that door for me. In turn, she told me she was rather surprised that my boss (her husband's cousin) was rather fond of me. I was shocked, because it implied that she would have been expecting him not to like me. But never the less, things turned out well. She did tell me it was possible for her to help me find a job here in the UK, but that if she did that, my boss would never forgive her!

Inevitably, when in England, everyone talks about the weather, simply because beautiful sunny days are far and few in between (which I have come to learn first hand). The English like to sit out on the grass on sunny days. They like taking long walks and sitting out in the open eating their lunch. Something unheard of in Malaysia where even going to the nearby store would mean a drive, no matter how short.

I commented on how the stores here seem to close to early (6pm) and seldom open on a Sunday. In he UK, the labour law stipulates that an employee has every right to refuse work if they have worked 48 working hours during the work week. Stores are only allowed to be open for no more than 6 hours on a Sunday. In Malaysia, the weekends are the busiest shopping times, and no retail business in their sane mind would imagine closing. She told me this was also similar in some parts of the US; shops still open on a Sunday. I felt it was a good thing, but she thought otherwise. She said, people start to forget about God. To impose work on a Sunday would mean taking time away from a persons day of rest, and time for them to worship at church (in the western context). I had never thought of it in that way. But it made a lot of sense. In a way, it was almost like a fight between worldly gain (money) and heavenly rewards (devotion).

Truth be told, it felt more like I was talking to someone whom was actually my aunt rather than my girlfriends relative. I feel seriously indebted to this lady whose presence has made an enormous impact on my life, even from the other side of the world. This was easily only our 3^rd or 4^th meeting in these few years that I have been dating her niece, and yet she treated me with such generosity and kindness; always full of advice, always there to help out. When we were about to part ways, she gave me a hug, and so did her daughter and husband. Now, maybe I'm just a big lumpy softie, but I love hugs. It feels infinitely warm and assuring. I love it when I receive hugs from people. They are just like an English summer day, far and few in between, but when they do come, they feel so warm and nice.

Hours later, I called my girlfriend on the phone and told her how my meeting went. The first thing I said to her was "Your aunt hugged me! And so did your cousin and uncle!" and she smile and laughed over the phone, at my child-like behaviour. It felt like a big deal to me, because when you hug someone, you are engaging physical contact. Skin contact is an intimate thing, and when it happens, it exudes warmth and acceptance of the person you are touching. That's body language, and it's not something to be taken lightly. Its baffling how many people can be totally blind about body language.

The most meaningful conversation I had with her was not exchanged in words, but the exchange of signals through body language. And there's nothing that says "We love and accept you" better that a big warm hug!