Tiara in Transit

The women in my family are built strong, with a wicked sense of humour, and to be honest most of us have inherited a less than favourable attitude towards men (as partners).

My grandmother, Popo, has never asked me about marriage. At 30, at a time when my friends and family are expecting me to tie the knot any second now, my own gran has not once put any kind of pressure on me and instead speaks to the opposite effect.

Popo – ‘Men are trouble. Its very hard to find a good man, very hard. You don’t have to get married, just save your money. Marriage isn’t like playing with sand you know, you don’t play around, it’s til DEATH!’

With stern words like these being passed down from my grandmother, to my mother, to myself, it’s no wonder I became a slight commitment phobe.

I ask Popo if she regrets getting married to Pak, she replies no, of course she loved him (my grandfather Pak passed away a couple of years ago), however it was not easy being married to a Muslim man who had been divorced once before, and had taken a second wife briefly. Plus dealing with all the other mischief that men get up to. But he loved children, and her favourite time in life was when things were good with her husband and her 7 children. (my mother had been the eldest)

My mother once told me the story of when I was born, that she had purposely told my father that I was a boy. She watched him get all excited and tell everyone in the neighborhood that he had just had another son, and then when he was done, she laughed and told him that I was actually a girl. My father got mad at her practical joke, but my mother found this hilarious. She loved telling me this story, and her face lit up at the memory.

Strong, with a quirky, wacky sense of humour.