Finding a place to hide things from Jan is a never-ending quest. He is very resourceful. So the search for the ideal hiding place carries on from one day to the next. It becomes such that we end up doing little else but look for places to hide our things. I reckon the only place we did not try to hide the soaps in were the ceiling light covers.
The days passed. Finally, at the age of five, my brother entered Balestier Special School.
The 3rd Step
Jan used to be known fondly as “The Big Boss” at school, as if he were running a gang. He would boss his teachers, the aides, the school staff, the classroom doors and passing pigeons.
He liked school. He especially found the swimming and computer lessons to his fancy. Once, he insisted on instructing one of his computer teachers on how to operate a program being used. He had apparently decided that the latter was doing it all wrong, and spent the entire lesson showing the teacher what to do.
Jan was always very proud of his school uniform and his schoolbag and school lunchbox. He would wait eagerly for the school bus to pick him up from home. He definitely looked forward to school much more than his sister did.
My brother grew to be inseparable from some of his teachers. When he was assigned new teachers at the beginning of a new school year, the pint-sized dictator insisted vehemently on having his old favourites back. The school had to rearrange the teachers’ roster, the grown-ups did a lot of scrabbling, and in the end, my brother nearly always got his way.
The teachers loved Jan very much, as they did with all their children. I suppose, too, that Jan has his own brand of sparkling charm. Folks have declared that once you spent some time with the boy, it is a matter of course that you ended up getting really fond of him. Jan’s past caregivers have even called my mother over the phone to tell her how much they missed little Jan, and sniffled.
The 4th Step
Even after Jan started school, there were a lot of things about the world that did not make sense to him. Some of it still does not. I think sometimes he finds the workings of daily life overwhelming.
The simplest of everyday things, those we take for granted, may seem the most puzzling riddles to him. For instance, there was his bewilderment over the use of the words “me” and “you”.
Other children grow to overcome this confusion after toddlerhood. My brother could not grasp the concept till he was fourteen years old.
It made sense that he should have been confused. Perhaps it is the fickle laws of the English language that are to blame. After all, when we spoke to him, we referred to him as “you” and to ourselves as “I”. So if he wanted us to put a second helping of rice on his plate, he would say, ‘I give you the rice.’ If he wanted to go outside, he would tell us, ‘You want to go out.’
Following our persistent efforts to correct him, which included spirited gesturing and pointing to his person and to ourselves, Jan eventually tossed out the pronouns and settled on referring to himself by name. No one could argue that it was not a practical solution; there would no longer be any confusion over who wanted what, where and when.
Jan, by the way, can be very persuasive. He informs us that we supposedly want to do something for him, and then states ‘yes’ before we can say otherwise. So nowadays a request for ice-cream would be, ‘Daddy wants to buy the ice-cream. Yes.’
He did not understand, either, the trouble we took to eat things with knives. He would watch us sawing away industriously at pieces of meat, only to end up with a piece enough for one mouthful, and no doubt thinking that we were less intelligent than we pretended to be.
I cannot remember what the last straw was that floored the camel. It might have been the plastic knives that came with the takeaway meals, the way they bent and broke so easily. So, the next time, Jan simply picked up a fork and a pair of kitchen scissors instead.
I confess to having happily used his method many times.
The 5th Step
Jan underwent a phase once when he was extraordinarily sensitive to every bit of movement in the house. If anyone so much as crossed a leg or lifted a foot while seated, he would immediately reposition the person’s leg. If someone put a fork or spoon down in a different direction from the one he thought it was supposed to face, he would rearrange the offending utensil at once.
He moved the family through the house like pieces on a chessboard. If anyone made any odd movements, it set him on the warpath. We would have to stay put in any position he put us in, like statues, until he calmed down and was comfortable with moving away from us.
It was as though there existed a flawless design in his head, in which everything had to be placed just so. It seemed painful for him if that perfect balance was disturbed. I imagined a thunderstorm raging in his mind every time he saw us move in a way that muddled the design.
Jan also went through a long period where he could not bear any kind of asymmetrical touch. If a person touched his shoulder, he would insist that they touched the exact spot on the other shoulder as well. If one were to hold his hand, he would make us hold his other hand the same way.
There was also the time when, if anyone said a word that did not ring right with him, he would make us repeat it over and over. I think the record may have been a hundred times
