August 31, 2000


SAINT-THIEF : COLLECTING TOYS FOR THE NEEDY

A memory slipped in the other day, unannounced. Something I hadn't thought about in years. Something I hadn't remembered ever since...

I was a ten-year-old kid, studying grade 3 back in Kellett School, Hong Kong-- a British-run international elementary school set up on the now-former island colony. I was a whiz kid, excelling at my studies and my art. Every now and then, my wonderful British teachers-- who reminded me of flight attendants with their scarves and their tasty accents-- would have me show my workbooks to our art teachers down the hall, since my drawings were getting better and better. It was a time of unbridled creativity and growth.

I remember recycling everything from egg cartons to cardboard and re-fashioning them into paper swords and armor, model tanks and airplanes. I was scribbling with crayons and making vibrant illustrations (for my age) in every workbook.

And then, a flash of evil inspiration.

I was envious of my classmates' toys. I wanted them. I could not have them. Until I settled upon a plan. I told some of my classmates that they could give me their old toys and then I would give them out to the needy. Toys they didn't want anymore-- stuff they might throw anyway. And I was quite the agressive marketer if I remember correctly. Any chance I had, I would tell my classmates and schoolmates to "donate" their old toys to the "needy".

Pretty soon, there was this steady influx of old toys. I was taking them home, remorselessly. And claiming them as my own. An old police car with a siren. A plastic dinosaur. Some Lego. Toy soldiers. Robots.

Until one day in the rest room, while pissing into the tiny little urinals for us gradeschool boys, someone told me that what I was doing was stealing. It wasn't really a confrontation. The person who told me was in another urinal and was telling me he knew what I was up to. Or at least, that's how I remember it.

"You're not giving those toys to the needy like you say. You're keeping them for yourself."
"No I'm not," I said with the sudden realization that what I was doing WAS bad, after all.
"It's like you're stealing."
"No, I'm not!"

Funny how my conscience never bothered me up till then.

Or maybe I was able to turn the remorse switch off for a time.

Anyway.

I was starting to feel like a criminal in my own classroom. I stopped asking for donations. I stopped envying them their stuff. Or maybe I looked away.

Realizing I was indeed doing something wrong, I became hypersensitive about what 'others' thought about me.

Even if I now know I wasn't stealing-- more like advertising falsely.

It must have had some impact on my personality since up to now, I need to know that I am favorable in most everybody's eyes. Sad isn't it? If any of my old classmates from back in HK are reading this, I'd like to apologize now. A bit of closure after 19 years. Better late than never.

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