Petai (Parkia Speciosa) are abundant during the durian season of June and July here. It is also known as stink beans for its foul smell, much like the stench of burnt rubber. It also has a slightly bitter taste. It is a delicacy to those who appreciate it not only for its unique taste but its supposedly medicinal property of countering diabetes.

There are several ways to eat petai. The simplest is to remove the beans from the pod, remove the white membrane and eat it raw. For a little more flavour, it can be eaten with sambal belacan and mashed dried prawns. The pod can be toasted over embers and the beans removed and eaten the same way. Another is to make dried prawns sambal and add petai to it. One recipe I like is the Sambal Petai and Prawns.

Peter gave me some petai a few days ago. Since I have developed an allergy to prawns, it was substituted with chicken. I would have loved to use tom yam paste for the dish but it is not something I should indulge in. I settled with using onions and soy sauce for taste. No salt was used but I believe it would have tasted better with some. The following was what I cooked up for today�s lunch.

Peter Tan’s Petai Masak Pedas

1/2 tsp corn flour
water

Heat oil in wok. Add garlic and stir till fragrant. Add onions and dried chillies and stir till fragrant. Add chicken and stir for 2 minutes. Mix the thick soy sauce, soy sauce, sugar and water and pour into wok. Stir for another 2 minutes. Add the petai beans and stir for another 2 minutes. Dissolve corn flour in a little water, pour into the wok and stir until the gravy becomes thicker in consistency. Remove from wok and serve with rice. For an extra dose of spiciness, add chilli padi together with the dried chillies.

Photo by Wuan.

Two years ago today.

Waiting for the unknown saps courage from even the bravest. There was no fitting consolation to that. A confused mind only exacerbated the situation. Unpromising as it may seem, there was always this glimmer of hope that it could turn around. Hope – that was all I had. My incessant impiety had me cast out from the mercy of the divine. I was indeed on my own, discarded to the abyss of the damned, my impassioned pleas lost in the void of darkness.

The clock ticked away. Each sixty seconds felt like an eternity. I wished it was eternity. If only time could stand still, I thought, I could keep her here forever. What profit would it be to keep the body when the soul was already one step into the other side? In moments of desperation, thoughts defied logic. A vacillation between compassion and selfishness churned wildly inside me.

Time did not stop. It trudged on ceaselessly, determined to mark off the fragility of life morsel by morsel. Waited for the inescapable I did. At the same time I surreptitiously hoped it never would arrive to collect the spoils. Even if it was adamant, would there be a reprieve? A promise was made and needed to be fulfilled. One more day was all I had begged for. Let her ears be graced by that sweet voice she was longing to hear for one last time before she is taken away forever. One more day, please…

There are some things, no matter how I procrastinate, I still need to get done at the end of the day. Two years of having someone to keep the apartment spick and spank, do the laundry and cook is coming to an end soon. She was employed as a stopgap measure. I was supposed to learn to cook at the very least. Now there is an urgent need, seeing that I will be without a domestic help come end August.

My special dietary needs preclude the convenience of having food catered and delivered to my doorstep. That is the only major stumbling block to my goal of living independently. The only way I can achieve that is to roll my sleeves up and attack it hands-on. What I discovered was that giving oral instructions and knowing the methods does not make one good in cooking. Still, I needed to start somewhere.

Today, I gathered all my resolve and got my hands dirty in the kitchen, so to speak. The menu for lunch was stir fried choy sum (Chinese flowering cabbage) and fried egg. It was not that difficult. The utensils and cutleries were rearranged to within my range of reach. Other than that it was all a breeze except for the inability to hold the wok spatula properly. But that was just the beginning. As I continue to cook more elaborate dishes I am sure there will be more utensils that have to be adapted for a better grip.

Two years ago today.

The phone rang. The melody was familiar. It was the anticipated phone call. Wuan was on the other end of the line. It was just after her lunch break.

�How�s Mummy?�

�Her eyes are closed. She is not responding.�

I looked at that frail figure lying there, unmoving, her back towards me. Her condition had steadily deteriorated since Tuesday evening. Even with routine four hourly turning, the skin on her hip had hints of a bruise, the precursor to a pressure sore. All I could do was to massage the offending spot with some lotion to improve the blood circulation. That was what she had done for me the months that I was bedridden.

�Talk to her,� I told Wuan, hoping she could encourage her to find the strength to fight on.

She had trusted Wuan more than anyone else to care for me after her. Although she had never said it, I knew she was consoled by the fact that Wuan had proven time and again that she was capable of loving me unconditionally as she had. What Wuan had done for her the week that she was here strengthened her conviction. And now Wuan was the best person to instil that spirit in her.

I held the phone to her ear. I knew for sure she could hear. Never mind that she could no longer reciprocate with a respond. I have been whispering to her throughout the day. Although the situation seemed increasingly bleak, I was hoping against hope that through some miracle, she could muster that strength that had always seen her through the direst of situations to wake up from that stupor.

Jenny had told me it was time to let her go. She had already looked after me for so long. It was time to let her go peacefully. She advised me not cling on to her because it would make it even more difficult for her to leave. I had accepted her words, although with some hesitation initially. Still what she said made sense. She is one of those few I trusted unequivocally. After all, she was the physiotherapist who played a major part in my rehabilitation.

�Ma, don�t worry for me. I know how to take care of myself. You are free now. Do what you have to do.�

I wished those were the sincerest words from my heart but they were not. Each time I whispered those into her ear, I had hoped I could tell her otherwise, tell her to be strong and fight on because I believe she had that ability within her to overcome that most difficult period of her life. There were still so many dreams she had for me that I had yet to fulfil. Two more years, two more years were all I need to make some of those a reality. Deep inside, I was screaming for two more years from her and I wished she could hear and allow me that extra time to make her proud.

After what I thought was enough time for Wuan to exhaust all the words of encouragement she could think of, I held the phone back to my ear again.

�What did you tell her?�

I knew she always have a profound view of life. I knew without a doubt that whatever she had said those few minutes were more than I could ever thought of. Still, I was curious.

�I told her I will be going this weekend.� There was tiredness in her voice. �I told her if she could, to wait for me. But if she is suffering too much it is all right to let go. I will look after you. I asked her to please not worry.� I listened in silence, choked with emotions and trying hard to hold back my tears.