Monday, August 1, 2011

Hunger 2


About 7:17, the old Malay answers when asked about makan tonight. (Some few words of bahasa picked up through the couple of months, as well as a smattering of Mandarin and Hokkien. Finally got in the latter the worst foul language in existence: as expected, the familiar one the world over concerning the mother.)


         Makan.


         Large crowds and queues early at the stalls under the awnings readying for the feast. Women of the house will be too weak for cooking.
         Meanwhile the ghosts are hungry too. Getting off the No.7 beside the dirty, dribbling canal at Guillemard corner the air was heavy with what seemed a single 44 gallon drum's emission beside City Plaza. With so many flats in those towers no doubt lots of wads of the play-money had to be stuffed in. Out on North Bridge Road beside the National Library, in the heart of the business district, a rusty old drum was chained to a tree on the nature-strip. They think of everything in Sing’.
         7:18, a group of lads sitting at Mr. Teh Tarik before a vacant table sighed.
         Some minutes before seven they had still not got up to order. The take-outs had gathered queues again, but no chompers. Along the hawker stalls off Haig Road the same–tables occupied, but nothing served. Around in the popular eatery on the ground floor of Tanjong Katong Complex there had been developments as the countdown approached. Sixty or seventy people sat at the tables fully laden with dishes, drinks and cutlery. Nothing of any table surface visible. Nowhere digging-in. Interesting sight. Something like a church hall perhaps in the old days; or the dinner table of an age gone by where prayers were required.
         Rounding back under the awnings a few minutes later, chomping on all sides from the paper bags, the skewers and styrofoam containers. A cigarette suddenly alight. Smoking of course is included in the prohibition; all the appetites. From memory the beast with the two backs was disallowed for the duration of the month, for the especially firm ones. (Daylight hours.)
         As in years past, the Indian cook at Mr. T.T. was not able to keep the fast on day one, he admitted. The hard work. Most years it was the same for the man. To make it up there was the six day period at the end of regular Ramadan for those in special circs., travelers, the ill, menstruating or pregnant women &etc.
         And finally, under the Buddhist awning before what is a small temple next to Feidu Internet up in middle Geylang, the heavy hitters have been enlisted to deal with the Hungry Ghosts. A half dozen or more, a woman among them, in long black robes rather similar to Western academic gowns, singing from their hymn books in front of the altar out on the pavement. Circling a number of times in slow file. A foot massage place a couple of doors on. Karaoke bars and eateries. Not to mention the Mainland working girls working their phones as they emerge from the lorongs.

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