by Amanda Chan, Alumni

My mother was always my number one fan.

When I first joined a dragonboat team 6 years ago, she was deeply concerned about my ability to swim. I can’t. After I assured her that the boats don’t tip over, she decided to see for herself to make sure I was safe. My mom and dad were the first people to ever watch me race. Our races started at 8am, so I didn’t know if anybody would show up. Sure enough, after my first race was over, I looked up toward Science World and there she was, smiling down at me, waving frantically to catch my attention. As any teenager would, I glanced up at her and pretended I didn’t see her. She found me afterward and told me we went really fast. “We came in last place”, I solemnly told her. “I know, but you still went really fast!” was her response. This was the beginning of her undying support.

When I told her I became coach of my high school team, she didn’t say anything. She had been receiving chemo treatment, so she was sick and weak. I didn’t know. After a few months of updates and her silent response, I decided she lost interest in dragonboat so I stopped updating her on my teams. But even after telling me that there’s nowhere to park, that skytrains make her dizzy, that it’s pouring rain outside and that I’ll catch a cold, I would look up after the races and see her there watching and smiling, using whatever energy she had to jump up and down and wave her arms to catch my team’s attention.

Every time she found me during the races, she’d proudly hold up the free shaver and 2 packages of free tinfoil that she had won at the kiosks. She would show me pictures of herself in front of a poster of the Great Wall of China that she took at one of the booths. She was so fascinated at how realistic it was, and gaped in awe at how beautiful the poster was because she always wanted to travel there. She would offer to hold my things while I warmed my team up, offer me a jacket if it was raining, and my parents would buy my team food in case they were hungry. She made sure there was enough for everyone.

After graduation, I formed a team and called it Banana Fusion. We would practice in the apartment garage and after practice we would all head upstairs and hang out. We would jam on the guitar and play with Kirbie into the wee hours of the night, while my mom selflessly offered all the snacks in her cupboards to make our tired guests feel at home.

She has come to every Alcan festival for the past 5 years, even when she was receiving chemo treatment and even when she felt dizzy and tired. Alcan 2008 was the last dragonboat race she came to see. As usual, she would try to find me amongst the hundreds of people, the dozens of teams. She would sneak into the Racer’s Village without a pass and sometimes spot someone familiar in the distance and ask them where I was. They usually wouldn’t know, so she would just keep searching harder. She would always find me eventually just to make sure I knew she was watching. She would watch my team walk down to the docks, load on our boat, and she would make everyone “wave to the camera!” and as soon as we started to make our way to the start line, she would wedge herself through the crowd and rush to the other end of Science World to get a better view. Whenever we found her, I would proudly say my team, “Banana Fusion, I present to you my mother!”.

Even after watching my team race so many times, I never believed she cared so deeply about the sport. I thought she just went with it because it was my passion, and not hers. It didn’t strike me that she genuinely loved the sport, until I woke up one Sunday morning in late January 2009. My mom and the home care nurse were having a conversation. The nurse asked what her three daughters are interested in. My mom thought I had gone to practice already, but I actually slept through it, and I’m thankful I did. She said “Amanda, my oldest one, does dragonboat. A lot of it. About every day. She’s at practice right now, she paddles so much!” She went on to describe in full detail what the dragonboats look like, how many races I attend per season, how many people fit on a boat, how wide and how long the boats are, and how many boats race per heat. I saw her get up from the couch, stagger slowly to my room, and pick out one of the paddles I keep by the door. She showed the nurse what the paddle looks like and made a sincere attempt to demonstrate a dragonboat stroke. She used rather good technique, actually. She then placed my paddle carefully where she found it, and shuffled back to the couch to take another nap. I cried myself to sleep and when I woke up, the nurse had left, and my mom acted as if nothing had happened. “I have practice tomorrow”, I told her. “Alright.” She responded quietly, before going back to sleep.

Every time I asked her how she is, and what it feels like, she would tell me that it hurts, and that it hurts a lot. But not once did she ever say that she was afraid. And with that, I consider her the strongest person I know.

She was there for me back then, and will be for the rest of my life. She’ll always be watching my races, but from now on, she won’t have that funky camcorder attached to her hand. She won’t be there to hold my bags while I race or hold an umbrella over my head while I coach. She won’t be there to make my boat wave to the camera as we loaded on, and congratulate us even if we come in last place. Instead, she will be there alongside me, listening to every beat of the drum, every swish of the blade. She will be there to give me that extra push in everything I do. She will make me fly farther, run faster, jump higher, and paddle stronger.

Mommy, I’ll always hear your voice calling my team’s name from the beginning of the race to the end. And from now on, every race is dedicated to you, because you were always my number one fan.

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Messages from the Editors:

Help Amanda reach her goal of $10,000 for the Weekend to End Breast Cancer benefiting the BC Cancer Foundation by donating to her on her Facebook profile or contacting us at whs_word@yahoo.ca (we will send you her email and she will be notified). Thank you.

Also, If you’re interested in dragonboating, join Windermere’s Raging Warriors team. Amanda’s team, Banana Fusion, is an adult team in which only graduates may join. Visit her website for more details: http://bananafusion.nijg.net.

(Screen capture: as of March 31st, 2009)