When I was a child, just starting school, my father made a decision that was completely uncharacteristic of a man who had been reasonably well educated for his time and who believed in the value of education. He decided to take all his young daughters, who were at various stages of Primary education, out of the convent school we had been enrolled in.

It must have been the sheer desperation of his inability to support a rapidly growing family on his meagre salary as a junior administrative officer at some railway depot. (The situation improved a little when he opened up his own business as an accountant). The expenses of our education comprised the monthly school fees of a few dollars, the cost of school books, proper school clothes and shoes, and the trishaw pedaller’s charges for taking us to school every morning. Poor Father, in his despair, thought he had no choice but to take that drastic course of action.

But he reckoned without Sister Saint John, the head nun of the convent. As soon as she noticed our absence and found out the reason, she acted. She was a feisty Irish nun who was quick to see promise in her students, and she must have seen that my sisters and I were doing well, and would benefit greatly from the education that the convent was offering. So she personally came to confront Father.

Only a Western woman could have dared to do that. Father was the typical traditional Chinese male of those times, who was not used to being argued with, much less rebuked by women. A Western woman who was at the same time a nun—and a bold, fast-talking one at that—was a completely alien species to Father.

Sister Saint John had no qualms whatsoever about scolding a man who was so foolish as to take his daughters out of school when they were getting good grades and good comments from their teachers in the report cards. I can see Father, embarrassed and intimidated, instantly capitulating and Sister saying sharply with a severe forefinger raised in the air, ‘And make sure they come to school tomorrow!’ before walking out of the door, with a satisfied swish of the long black serge skirt and the starched white wimple.

But once she had succeeded in her purpose, Sister set about helping ease Father’s financial burdens. There must have been some remission of the school fees, some school books provided free of charge. Father never spoke about this very difficult period in his life.

Today, when my sisters and I talk about childhood days, we experience little shudders of horror at what might have happened in our lives, if Sister had not intervened. I am thinking of a relative, of the same age as myself, with the same precocity for reading and learning about things, who had to leave school after three years and ended up as an assistant at a noodles stall. Or of another childhood friend who never left the little hometown and birthplace and who would look with envy at me each time I came home on vacation from the University.

Our debt of gratitude to an Irish nun long dead finds expression in regular donations to needy students who will hopefully, in their turn, continue Sister Saint John’s kindness, generosity and above all, her passionate commitment to bringing education to poor children.

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About Vignettes...

A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...