Uncle Hog

Hog normally sat at the corner table at the kopitiam. He would arrive in the afternoon, around 3 to 4 pm, and ordered continuous rounds of tiger beer until around 10 in the night.

At 5 pm, two of his students would arrive, and he would tutor them in literature and philosophies on life. They have to pay him five dollars on the spot, and he welcomes them to bring friends, so long as they pay too. Then he'll use the money to get more beer.

And cigarettes. Let's not forget about his cigarettes.

Hog smoked four cigarettes every hour, or one cigarette every fifteen minutes. It is hard to hold the cigarettes with his trotters, so he leaves them dangling in between his lips until from start to finish. He never coughs. When his students did, he gave them permission to leave the table until he finishes his cigarette. He told the rest that those who left the table would never be able to understand a good deal of literature, which came from people who smoke.

"Apparently," he said, "nicotine does something for the schizophrenics, and many writers are schizophrenics, you know. There's a certain sense of empathy."

"Uncle Hog, is that why you smoke even when you know smoking is bad for health?" said a student once, from the 8 pm class. He held two sessions daily, sometimes the students show up, sometimes not. He forbade his students from addressing him as teacher. When he was a kid, a long time ago, his mother told him to address people as "uncle" as a sign of respect. He liked that and asked to be called "Uncle" - a figure of authority without moral responsibility.

"50 years ago, they said smoking is good for health. Fifty years later, they say it kills you. Maybe 50 years later they'll say it's good for me again. Remember: Facts become obsolete. Fiction remains relevant. Even Shakespeare's old pansy rhymes are more relevant than the 'facts' of his time."

"Do you really believe that smoking is good for your health?"

"No. Smoking is bad for you, don't pick up smoking," said Hog sternly, "If you have to pick up something, pick up a pen instead. If that fails you, then pick up drinking. If that fails you too, then you can consider smoking."

"Then why do you smoke?"

"Smoking is bad for health, but it hasn't failed me."

When Hog died of lung cancer, his students buried him and put this on his epitaph, "His only hate sprung from his only love (other than drinking and the written word)." He didn't ask for it, but they thought he would find it funny.