Freedom from the Gilded Cage

I have just realized that I hate cages. More specifically, I hate to see birds or animals in cages. They strike too close to home. For I myself know what it is like to live like a caged animal. The first few years of my life in Malaysia, were spent in a "cage". As a latchkey kid, I hated to be locked up, confined to a small space, facing 4 walls. with no one to talk to and no one to play with.

My foster mother would leave at 6.30am to travel to teach at a Chinese High School 20km from home while my brothers would board the public bus to a school 30km away. I would wake up about 7.00am to find by my bedside a tray with perhaps, on days when my foster mother was generous, a white bread sandwich of butter and jam. and a tumbler of cold chocolate drink.

On other days, it would just be a tumbler of water and a small tin of plain crackers or biscuits. That would serve as my breakfast, snacks and lunch until my foster mother returned at 4pm. Then, if I was lucky, upon her return, my foster mother would have bought some food for lunch or tea. If not, I would have to wait until dinner which would be about 7.30pm.

Anyhow, dinner was not much to shout about because it would always be rice or noodles, vegetables and soup for me. Meat was strictly reserved for my brothers and yes, I would be given some but never, ever, generous portions, just a measly piece or two. Even then, the pieces given to me were those rejected by my brothers - because they were considered to be more fat than meat, really.

The room where I spent my days as a latchkey kid was the back of the 3-bedroom bungalow. It was joined to the kitchen by an sunken attached bathroom. One side of the attached bathroom had a door that led to the back garden. The bedroom had floorboards that were elevated 8 inches off the floor and the attached bathroom was 8 inches below the floor level.

The room to the bedroom could be locked from within or from the outside because and it was keyhole system lock. The back door to the garden was locked by a huge padlock and the keys hung just by the door. My mother did not worry about me getting out that way because the padlock was placed just too high to be reached by a 4 year old. She seriously underestimated this 4 year old.

My need to escape was so strong. In reflection, I see that "necessity is truly the mother of invention". For I figured out that I could jiggle the key from the bedroom door. I was not taught but I knew how to take a piece of paper - given to me to amuse myself with crayons during those lonely hours - and slip it under the door, just where the key would fall. Then, once the key was dislodged from the other side and landed on the paper, I would pull the paper in and escape.

I could not escape the house that way, but I certainly could explore the house and the remaining rooms. Like a rat, most of the time, I made a bee-line for the kitchen - tempted by the food. Cheese was and is still my favorite. I would steal a piece of cheese from the fridge. Pour myself a tumbler of Coca-cola or snacked on a raw tomato or apple.

I even knew how to cover my tracks. Clever? No, for fear of being discovered and to lose my stolen freedom. I made sure that I would open the door that connected the kitchen to the bathroom. Before 2pm, I would immediately lock the bedroom door from the outside and then re-enter the room through the bathroom, closing the connecting door well. Of course, once I was let out of the room, I would find an excuse to sneak back quickly into the kitchen and lock the door between the bathroom and kitchen.

That was my first "escapade" to freedom from the cage. Like all things, it became not enough. I yearned to be out in the sunshine and to be out in the open. The desire became so great that I tried many times, from standing on my toes, to piling books and standing on them. Someone famous said - you do not fail, you just find a 100 ways that don't work!

Finally, I learned to be "spider girl". At such a young age, I found that if I pressed each of my palms and soles of my feet on each side of the door frame, I could actually climb to the top of the door frame. Slowly but surely, with practice, I mastered the climb until I could stay locked in that position at the frame without my hands to support me. Look ma, no hands.

Then, one morning, a light bulb flashed in my little brain. I climbed up the door frame of the back door of the bathroom and grabbed the key off the nail, from where it hung. Then, gingerly, I climbed down a notch or two and that brought me face to face with the padlock. Balancing so carefully, I slid the key in and turned. The padlock opened and I slid it off the latch and released the latch. The door opened! Eureka!

I climbed down and the smell of the fresh air and fragrances of the green grass was so very sweet. Victory was double sweet because now I was free to visit the garden, which, by the way, had a guava tree, starfruit tree, two rambutan trees with the sweetest fruits. Once again, my fixation was for the fruits.

I could sit at the marble seats of the garden lounge set in the front of the house and watch my neighbors walk by. I could chat with the kids who came out to play in their gardens. I loved it most when I could pick the Ixora flowers that grew by the garden lounge set and pick out the stigmas and drink droplets of nectar that collected at the base of the stigma.

Above all, I was free to roam where I pleased in the garden. I was free from my cage. Short spells of freedom but nevertheless, freedom all the same.

Be blessed.