'Uncle Ho'

The same uncle who greeted me as an usher, two Sundays ago at the gates of our church, smiling his usual and extending his ever warm handshake (followed by the day's bulletin) - made an extra copy of his swimming manual as a surprise-gift to me when I was twelve, and on those suitable weekends, allowed me to tag along on his bicycle for his weekly swims where the exciting application part of my self-study would take place. Although nothing substantial concerning the art of swimming was ever attained by yours truly, the lack thereof never proved to be a fatal flaw. I believe I would not drown (if presented with a misfortune where I'm forced to swim in deep water), to this very day, thanks to him.

If I take the book into account, I would count him saving me on more than one occasion.

Once during a Sunday school outing, held at some popular (and this is so generally applicable), but unmemorable waterfall-cum-pool, I had with curious intention, ventured to the deep end of things (comically, with a tire round my chest, and it was a few sizes larger..), where later (and regretfully), I found myself in a royally screwed situation, when I slipped under and was going down fast.

It's all in flashes. It was then. Sad to say that my current state of memory doesn't help with the recollection of everything, but I'll try.

I went down, and where I passed, it grew darker. The color of murky green surrounded me, and below, was a perfect dark. Cemented shoes, I felt worn. I struggled to get up, flailing in a mad rush, but the more I did, the quicker the descent was. I saw the tire, fully floating above me, more distant by the second; the air escaping my lungs as I was trashing about in my desperation; the feeling that there was nothing I could do at all. Nothing. And this was going to be it.

But as soon as I said that to myself, I felt something else. It was his arms around me, tugging me towards the surface; towards light, oxygen, and life.

He was a teacher who attended that particular picnic there then. And if I recall correctly he had stood in for classes for a few times as a substitute. Though it had proved no different to me, as I had never really absorbed anything as efficiently in a classroom than I did, in that pool. People might say I have forgotten, or maybe I have misplaced my gratitude as I grew - but I am as grateful to him as anyone who has made a good lasting mark on me. I'm just not one to show it as outwardly. I think.

I've never missed a Sunday where I've attended the service and not shook hands with that man.

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