Clams and cockles selling as fast as the man could fill his bags. A kilo at a time it looked like, one bag after another. Next?
Two types of the former, one three times more expensive than the other, commoner type ($2/6). Cockles fetched two also. All three of a size.
The butchers on the other side sliced and chopped astonishingly vibrant red meat. It may be that all colours are brighter and more intense in the tropics. A reminder one is in the territory of the forged steel blade too: the parang and kris. The Chinese chop-chop wasn't a loose piece of blather. At one time it would have made the listener hop well and truly. Men wielding the blade adeptly, fatty strings slung into buckets underneath the bench. For fully five minutes one chap was observed from beside his elbow: not the merest flicker, intent at his task. Sometimes the mat salleh can be the ghost who walks through these halls. Usually not.
The Tidur, tidur / Sleep, sleep tee — bought in Malacca from a young chap who ran a little eco-Backpacker on the river — has them more often than not agog. The panama, more or less white face, and tidur-tidur. Who/What is this joker? A regular more or less. Wants to be Malay? CIA?....
The old flower-seller was abashed at the modest size of the pandan and jasmine buds taken for the two dollars.
— You want one dollar, or two? she asked at the mid-point when the meagreness of the bag was becoming apparent.
With some added bouquets enfolded in betel leaf she tried to compensate. Likely she recalled the first purchase a few weeks before. Difficult to forget probably.
The leaves on her tray on the counter looked wilted. No good. In the freezer better preserved. On her chair she places the plastic bag from the freezer and begins picking through. Many of these leaves too had lost their lustre. Leafing through like a croupier; like a book-worm seeking the relevant page.
"Auntie" only fronts at eleven, she explained apologetically. Her own English was nothing as good. Auntie spoke excellent well; she could name each and every flower at her stall. The previous week auntie had been out of sorts, a little unwell. The woman recalled the reference. This mat salleh in the panama buying wedding bouquets calling an old toothless Malay auntie.... The pair were into their late seventies, a couple of years perhaps separating. Sisters was judged right. It was either kaka or a-dek for "auntie" — the former older sister and latter younger. This made the woman blush even more, blush with a little pleasure and delight. And all the more reason to deal fairly. Fresh produce at the least.
Forward and backward with the leaves. Back and forth. Finally she settled on three, brought out the stapler from the drawer, folded the leaf, two staples shot. Pandan, topped with a little crimson rose-head, presented as a tribute. Still the two dollars not off-set of course. High colour in the cheeks blooming still. The other two leaves she would have likewise filled and presented had she not been forestalled.Two types of the former, one three times more expensive than the other, commoner type ($2/6). Cockles fetched two also. All three of a size.
The butchers on the other side sliced and chopped astonishingly vibrant red meat. It may be that all colours are brighter and more intense in the tropics. A reminder one is in the territory of the forged steel blade too: the parang and kris. The Chinese chop-chop wasn't a loose piece of blather. At one time it would have made the listener hop well and truly. Men wielding the blade adeptly, fatty strings slung into buckets underneath the bench. For fully five minutes one chap was observed from beside his elbow: not the merest flicker, intent at his task. Sometimes the mat salleh can be the ghost who walks through these halls. Usually not.
The Tidur, tidur / Sleep, sleep tee — bought in Malacca from a young chap who ran a little eco-Backpacker on the river — has them more often than not agog. The panama, more or less white face, and tidur-tidur. Who/What is this joker? A regular more or less. Wants to be Malay? CIA?....
The old flower-seller was abashed at the modest size of the pandan and jasmine buds taken for the two dollars.
— You want one dollar, or two? she asked at the mid-point when the meagreness of the bag was becoming apparent.
With some added bouquets enfolded in betel leaf she tried to compensate. Likely she recalled the first purchase a few weeks before. Difficult to forget probably.
The leaves on her tray on the counter looked wilted. No good. In the freezer better preserved. On her chair she places the plastic bag from the freezer and begins picking through. Many of these leaves too had lost their lustre. Leafing through like a croupier; like a book-worm seeking the relevant page.
"Auntie" only fronts at eleven, she explained apologetically. Her own English was nothing as good. Auntie spoke excellent well; she could name each and every flower at her stall. The previous week auntie had been out of sorts, a little unwell. The woman recalled the reference. This mat salleh in the panama buying wedding bouquets calling an old toothless Malay auntie.... The pair were into their late seventies, a couple of years perhaps separating. Sisters was judged right. It was either kaka or a-dek for "auntie" — the former older sister and latter younger. This made the woman blush even more, blush with a little pleasure and delight. And all the more reason to deal fairly. Fresh produce at the least.
Auntie must be a sleepy-head. Tidur, tidur....
Sometimes one can play-up the message on the tee. Point and draw the finger across the words when it has taken someone's interest. Everyone keenly reads the billboard tees here in Singapore on the approach. Oftentimes the tee can say it so much, much better. A little sociological paper could be written on the subject: a Chinese-Malay community, fisher-folk and coolie servant-class to upper first world in three generations, hacked English foisted upon them by the technocratic elite, living in "bird-cage" flats in the middle of yellow-brown, still largely poor Asia, under the influence of Euro-Ameri cool style.... What to do?...
Such shame and embarrassment auntie's kaka or a-dek didn't even see the tee. Too old for that kind of identity confusion in any event.
Two-three days the fragrance holds bed-side and on the dresser, filling the room and perfuming the dreams. A two dollar entree to the market at Geylang Serai.
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