Translated…
On the year my father passed away, I’d gone to his dormitory, to pick up his things, and I was shocked to find in a rusty steel drawer, there was a couple of yellowed savings books, I didn’t dare open it on my own, I’d had my eldest brother come to bear witness, I’d flipped to the first page of the records, there was a note attached, with my father’s handwriting, “This book contain the records of dad’s private stash, there’s detailed accords of every single deposit here, as for why I’d put away this private stash of money, you will see.”
As we’d flipped the book from front to back, we’d started crying. My father was an elementary school teacher, he’d made himself into a role model, kept himself tight, hard working, in the 1960s, with his measly pay, he’d needed to supply it to his family of seven, he’d often needed to save up all of his pay; in order to get more money, my father set up a pig pen at the corner of his school dormitory, and utilized the patch of land that wasn’t being used to plant yam and other leafy vegetables, and, he’d cooked the leaves and yam, along with the leftover from the meals provided at the schools, he’d managed to keep over ten piglets, and, he’d waited until they’re all big enough, then, sold them, and, deposited his earnings in its entirety, into his bank accounts, as his private stash, year after year, he’d never stopped doing this.
Back then, in the agricultural societies, women rarely worked away from home, my father would take his pay in its entirety, gave it to my mother to be used as money for our livelihoods, and yet, he was still having difficulties, keeping all of his children well, and so, he’d tried saving money in his private accounts, to be used as money for our school, medical fees, etc., etc., etc., he’d worked really hard, raising us up.
This yellowed bankbook my father left, had precise detail of how much he’d spent on us brothers, it wasn’t a small amount, causing the remaining amounts to be in single digits. Until he was promoted to school principal, and we all grew up and married, with jobs, did the economics start to improve, and, as his money increased, he’d often donated the amounts to charitable purposes.
Before my father passed away, he’d often told us, “Dad has a steady pay each and every month, and we’re still not rich, imagine how hard it was, for the laborers, or other families poorer than us, if you’re able to in the future, you must give back to the world.” The money my father saved not just went to help those children who are from poverty stricken backgrounds, it’d often helped those families in need, but he’d never told us about it. My father’s doing good in secrecy, his giving back to the world, it’d made us in awe.
So, this man, even though he could barely make enough for his family, he’d still managed to put some money away, and use the money he put away to help someone who’s less fortunate than he is out, and that, is an amazing act of kindness, giving back to the world, even when you have so very little.
Life, the Obstacle Course 