Brief
Introduction: This chapter is basically about
several significant times back in the Girls Brigade. Girls’ Brigade is an
international organization which is like a combination of Sunday school and
girls’ scout. I have joined the Girls’ Brigade back in Sabah, Malaysia for
eight years. The organization has taught me discipline, teamwork, and faith to
serve God. At first, I have trouble with remembering every single detail of the
events, but with reference from my diaries and photos, I have refreshed my
memories to write the scenes through imagery. In this chapter, I’ve covered a
few events from the years 2005 to 2008, and at the end, readers will get to
know that 2008 is my last year in the Girls’ Brigade. The reason why I choose
to write about this topic is because I realize that it had been years since I
seen the faces of the officers and girls back in the company and I regret for
not contacting them ever since. A few weeks ago, I was so happy that I finally
found a few familiar faces on Facebook and added them as friends. I tagged them
in the draft of this memoir chapter and they were reminded on how fun it was
back then. The times we had together as a large group. I also would like to
share my experiences in the Girls’ Brigade with readers like you so that you
can relate this chapter to your own life as well.
A
typical Sunday revealed on the 2008 calendar. I wore that sapphire-colored
uniform with a small collection of silk badges that were
sewn on both medium sleeves and a flowing skirt that reached to my kneecaps. The uniform was
brightened up with a simple dark blue belt and a carmine red tie with a small Girls’ Brigade crest
pin at the middle. The crest was made up of a white cross that symbolized Christ’s church, a gold
crown on top that represented Christ as the king, a flaming torch above it that signified
Christ’s living spirit, an oil lamp below the cross that signified light, and a background of blue and red
circle to represent God’s blood and love. An oval-shaped dark blue cap covered my head with
another crest pin on \it. We girls must wear pearly white short socks and canvas shoes to
represent purity.
You
had got to be kidding me! I rubbed my eyes, hoping that I was only dreaming.
But as I lifted my eyelids, my name at the top of the
notebook page was still there. “Looks like you’re chosen to become the leader of the squad!” my sister
Megan squealed in delight. What was with that smile? You had no idea how scared I was in
becoming a leader! In eight years of my life in the Girls Brigade, I had never been in front
of a line before. I wished I could grab a correction tape and replace my name with another
member of the squad, but it was too late.Everyone gathered at the empty parking lot which was
situated next to Shern En Methodist Church. The forever-summer-heat bounced against my
skin that pierced through like needles.
My whole head felt like it was caught on fire, even
my cap couldn't cool me down. I stood at the furthest corner of the parking lot with eight other
girls queued behind me. The other leaders on my left looked like they could nail their marching
steps in just a snap of their fingers. I, on the other hand, could feel my stomach churning with
anxiety that I might trip on an imaginary banana peel. A line of officers in light blue
uniform shirts, dark skirts and black heels stood at the front right of the parking area. A girl who was
selected as a commander yelled out with a voice that sent my brain in alert, “Leaders of the squads! Forward…march!” I
held the little blue notebook in my left hand and marched forward with my
right hand flung straight up and down.We stopped three feet away from the commander’s left
with a final stomp of our feet. “Turn left!” I raised my voice from the back. It sounded shaky instead of firm, but I
sighed in relief when we shifted our feet to the front. Then, the
commander called to the rest of the squads to come forward. It wasn't so bad after all. I
performed the rest of the steps in roll call and ticked the names of the members in my squad. When it ended,
the captain came to me with the smile of an impressed American Idol judge. She complimented,
“Good job, Michele!”
My mind was clotted by
a web of anxiety when I found myself standing in a queue for a church choir audition back in 2005. The captain was
standing next to a pianist at a corner. Captain Kiu was like the friendliest, kindest person
all young girls in the company adored. Her short curls matched her beautiful motherly
countenance. She had the sweet ruby-lipsticked smile and the parcel of positive attitude that emboldened
us to attend the Girls Brigade every Sunday afternoon. Every girl was tested with a vocal
exercise of singing the eight main notes: do re mi fa so la ti do. To my surprise, I mastered every note
smoothly. The choir was to sing a Mandarin song for a church event, and I didn’t realize how
much work we had put into. That very day, when we performed on stage, all I could see were
grins of satisfaction from the audience. Captain Kiu praised all of us at the end, “You've worked really hard to make this performance
perfect.”
Drills
watered the seed of confidence to grow in me, but unexpected things could
happen as well. I was an innocent 14-years-old back in
2007. The dining hall was cooled by the whirling row of ceiling fans above. I hid myself at the
furthest table of the room. Salty droplets trickled from my eyes.
An officer approached to me and asked in a worried, gentle tone. “What's wrong?” Stifled between my tears, I replied, “I’m
not chosen to be in the drill competition.” I dared not to look at her, for I was too embarrassed
to show my reddened face. The officer put her right arm round me and rubbed my shoulder. There
went her words of comfort, “Don’t be upset. You’ll have the chance next year.” I never knew how
eager I was of wanting to be in such a challenging event. Face it! Who would ever wanted to
be grilled under the Malaysian sun with
the uniform wrapped round your body and a pair of
white Mickey Mouse gloves that triggered the sweat receptors in your palms while you marched?
The 2008 Sabah
Adventure Camp at Sabah Tea Garden was an event I’ll never forget. I lumbered on the dark bamboo floor as I made my way
to the selected bedroom. The traditional Malaysian longhouse was dominated by 63
girls and 16 officers. I was surrounded by an extremely long wall of thick split bamboo that
extended outwards on my left and a row of wooden doors that led to bedrooms on my right. The
roof was made of dried grass. In the
room, three plump mattresses were arranged on a wooden
platform with large white mosquito nets hung over each of them like tents. A simple
porcelain sink was attached at a corner of the room with a mirror
above it. A fluorescent lamp above the beds lit well enough in the enclosed
square.
I placed my frameless spectacles gently on an edge
of my bed before I changed into my nightwear. Before I knew it, I sat on it without
reminding myself about my alternate eyes. A loud, crispy crack caused my brain to freeze. My
heart was torn into pieces as I got off my bed. My spectacles, the only eyewear I had, were smashed
into cookie bits.
Stuck
with a blurry vision for the remaining two days, I squinted my eyes at
long-sighted distances and asked help from Megan to read faraway
words for me. That was the first time I broke a pair of spectacles, and I regretted for not
owning contact lenses. However, the rest of the camp pulled the strings of my mouth into a smile. We
breathed in the fresh mountain air at an early hour; the sky was a blue-black. I was trapped
in this lovely paradise of emerald shrubs. The mixture of various tea scents fused in the crisp
atmosphere that made me dream of an exotic, all- flavor cup of beverage. When we arrived at a desired
spot of the stony slope, God had summoned a topaz sphere that illuminated hues of
garnet and amber. It peeked between the hills like a toddler who played peek-a-boo. Even though I
couldn’t see the sunset clearly, I could see the bright ball in awe. It was definitely a sight!
As luminous rays of sunlight flashed over the
overlapped tea fields, we were fueled up with
cups of Milo, a popular hot chocolate
drink in Malaysia. We then made our way back to the longhouse
to get ready for jungle trekking. Compass, water bottle, novel, towel, an extra
shirt and
a pair of jeans, slippers…my backpack became a package of weights on my
shoulders. The whistle
blown by an officer alarmed us. We dashed off our dorms and down the bamboo
stairs. A forest
guide drove us to a forest which was ten minutes away from the accommodation.
We were in the middle
of a muddy, slippery trail. The countless days of rain before the camp must had soaked the earth in playful splotches.
A long line of girls trudged and slid down the mud. Luckily, there was a railing of white rope
that was tied firmly at each ends of the trail. “Be careful, Mich! I just slipped on a wet spot down
here!” my 12-years-old sister called from a few feet away. I gulped in fear as if a cherry seed
seeped down my throat. I gripped hold on the rope as I slowly stepped down. Before I knew it, my
right foot skidded on a thick patch of brown. I landed on my butt, letting out a painful
yelp. This was definitely not what I had in mind.
“Are
you sure you want to do this?” a voice spoke in my head. I gave one last tap of
the keyboard. A letter was done on the screen of my
mother’s laptop. I had planned to do this before the camp. My decreasing number of attendance that
year was due to a crucial national exam, and this pulled my Girls’ Brigade enthusiasm down.
Thoughts on the future flooded in my head like a waterfall: harder courses in school, upcoming
exams, preparation for college. I had an adamant feeling that it was time to say goodbye. It all
happened in the blink of an eye. Save. Print. Document ready. I feared that after I send the
letter of quitting the Girls Brigade, the girls would hate me. But I believe that no matter where I was,
Girls Brigade would always be in my heart. That afternoon, I handed the letter to an officer
with a mixed emotion of relief and guilt.
I couldn’t remember what her last words were.
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