Flower Power

 




When ever I watch on television or print copies of advertisements of ladies soaking in a tub of water with orchids floating on top of it in a spa, I remember my grand mother’s flower power treatment.

The year was 1975, my sister had her first baby, and my nephew wasn’t sucking well. She was suffering from a breast abscess. Grand Ma sent me around the neighborhood to scour for nine different kinds of flowers. They had to be of different hues as well.

It wasn’t easy looking for nine types of flowers and besides I thought she was old fashion and I felt rather stupid going up to people’s house asking for some of their flowers. We were also new to the neighbourhood.

“I need a handful of your mauve colored flowers.”

“Why do you want my flowers?”

“Because my sister has………. breast infection.”

As a teenager, it was rather embarrassing explaining that part of the anatomy. Fortunately, the neighbors were very kind and helpful, and some even helped me pluck the flowers.

After I filled my basketful of flowers of nine different hues I came home. Grand Ma put them in the long bath tub and ran hot water into the tub. Then she and my sister locked themselves in the bathroom. I stood outside the bathroom listening to:

“OW!!!! HOT!!!HOT!!!”

“It’s got to be hot, otherwise it won’t work.”

After that hot flower treatment, my sister got better. But I was skeptical about Grand Ma’s treatment.

I said,” May be she would have gone better, with or without the flowers.”

Fast forward some twenty five years, I was living with my three year old son who became a scary cat after he was frightened by the loud engine sound of my friend’s old Holden. It came to a stage that it was so bad that he refused to leave the apartment. We were imprisoned in our own home because the old Holden was parked downstairs of our apartment.

Come another old lady to the rescue. My girl friend’s mother told me to get nine types of flowers to bath him. I remember my late Grand Ma’s flower power treatment. I went gathering flowers.

It didn’t work for my son, he refused to get into the tub with flowers floating on it. It took a long time, and a lot of coaxing, D even dragged Sam to no avail and finally requesting my friend to remove the car. She was very accommodating. At last we were freed of the clutches of fear.

In Singapore and Bangkok, I often go and luxuriate in the health and beauty spas. The aestheticism and spa technicians sometimes run a tub filled with rose petals or orchid flowers. They tell me their sing song English that the flowers have extracts that will relieve me of stress and relief from insomnia I laughed, my Grand Ma knew about this long ago.

Back in Auckland, I go for Chinese massages. The Chinese doctor soaks my feet in tiny red flowers in a wooden tub before he massages my feet and the rest of the body. Oh!!! I feel so pampered.