2. The Fearless Mouse Slayer

In those days, rats and cockroaches were not uninvited guests to our homes; they were permanent residents with full right of abode.  Unlike children (even adults!) of nowadays who will scream and make a terrible fuss when they see a mouse or cockroach or spider or gecko, children in those days would look upon these creatures with natural curiosity, as something to investigate, to chase around and to capture as potential playthings.  They were the “Nintendo”, “PS2” and “G.I.Joe” of our generation.  Even so, what happened one evening was so horrific that I immediately earned the reputation and nickname of “Mo Yau Pa” (fear nothing) at a tender age of four.  This is how it went…

It was early in the evening.  My mom was preparing supper in the shared kitchen with three other women who were also cooking meals for their families.  Our flat was not large, but it was home for four families.  My family was the leaseholder and we sublet space to three other families.  Two boys and I were playing a game called “catch the little sandbags” outside our main door at the top of the staircase.  It was always a dark area because of the dim light. 

At one corner, there was a little shrine for the pagan “Earth God”.  People burnt joss sticks or candles stuck in a tin can.  At that particular moment, the tin can was empty except for some ashes. 

I saw out of the corner of my eyes, a little mouse suddenly appearing from nowhere.  Its tiny beady eyes took a quick look in our direction, and then it scurried to the shrine.  When it got to the top of the shrine, it must have slipped because it tumbled head first into the tin can. 

The whole incident took no more than a couple of seconds.  The other two boys didn’t see a thing because they had their backs towards the shrine.  I told them what I saw.

“Yeah, Ah Yuen, a mouse just happened to drop into the tin can while you were watching, right?  We have heard too many of your stories.  You expect us to believe you?  Not in a thousand years!”

“OK.  You wanted proof?  I’m going to get proof!  Sit still and stay away from the shrine.  I don’t want you to scare our friend away.”  

I scampered into the flat and took a hammer from my dad’s tool-box.  It’s not a heavy hammer, but it has a wood handle about 8 inches long (the right tool for the job that I had to do).  When I returned, the two boys were still sitting there in the dim light, grinning, probably wondering what I was up to this time. 

Without saying a word, I held the hammer head in my hand, walked to the shrine, squatted over the tin can, and plunged the wood handle into the tin can in rapid succession, with my eyes closed.

There was quite a bit of ash in the tin can so I really didn’t feel much as I plunged the handle down until I felt I hit something solid like the head of the mouse.  Then I stopped. 

“So that’s it?  Ah Yuen, that’s your proof?” one of the boys quipped.  “Where’s your mouse?  Ha! Ha!”  The other boy made a silly face.

I told myself: “They are asking for it!”  I picked up the can and in one smooth and deliberate motion, emptied its contents onto the floor in front of the boys.  Even in the dim light, the sight was quite disturbing.  The dead little mouse was all covered in ash.  We didn’t see any blood only because it was soaked up by the ash.  Its head was smashed…I hit the jackpot!  Its eyes were bulging out from their sockets. 

“Yeee…ahhhh!!”  The two boys screamed and ran and tumbled down the stairs so fast that you would think they had just seen the devil himself!

The rest, as they said, was history.  News of my fearless act spread throughout the community of children living in my neighborhood.  I was known as “Mo Yau Pa”.  Not one adult knew anything about this.  We kept it away from them because we knew they would react to it very differently.  They lived in a different world from us, and it’s impossible for us to see eye-to-eye. 

I certainly didn’t tell my mom about this.  It’s not because I was ashamed of what I had done, but because if I had told her, the first question she would have ask must be: “So did you wash your hands afterwards?”  Well, for all I could remember, I probably didn’t wash my hands afterwards.  Washing hands after killing a mouse was not a top priority for a boy of my age. 

There were a few times when my mom overheard some of the kids referring to me as “Mo Yau Pa”.  She got very suspicious and one day her curiosity got the better of her.

“Ah Yuen, why did the boys called you ‘Mo Yau Pa’?  What brave acts have you done to deserve that?”  She looked at me inquisitively.  I knew that simply translated into: what mischief have you got yourself into?

“I’ve no idea, mom.  You know, kids say silly things sometimes.  I wouldn’t pay any attention if I were you.” 

-To be continued-