Bringing Food to the Table (Johor Bahru, ML)

Deepest recesses of childhood for something comparable in a woman’s delivery of food to table; the kind of offering made.
         It was not merely the garb—the apron and scarf.
         The plates here came from her hands like finest fruits from her board; with concern how they might be received. Modest home-cook fretting whether she had managed to produce the intended pleasure, whether it had come out right.

         Arms out-stretched, Please, if you will, echo from long ago.
         Late-forties; possibly early-fifties. Prematurely aged. Heavily wrinkled, hollow-cheeked. (Ordinarily she would not have had many remaining teeth, yet there had been a flash in the smile.) Nut brown; not one of the burnt tones.
         Thirty and more years ago a man may have looked at her with desire; her graceful, fulsome manner more than made up. Sheer sky-blue scarf unintentionally matching work apron. Large metal clasp on top and somehow wings created at the sides of her face. The thin bird-like voice had been anticipated.
         It had taken more than a year in these parts to confirm a particular form of hailing for an acquaintance, a waiter or friend. The same had been witnessed a couple of times many months before.
         Here at the JB eatery on Wong Ah Fook just over the Causeway, two instances within a half hour. One of the waiters had been called first; later an unseeing passing pal. Different fellows in either case.
         A smacking of lips brought together tightly and air pulled through against the seal produced a kissing call. The reverse of a blown kiss, but the sound not dissimilar. Enlarged and extended in this case.
         Courteous, friendly hailing or calling out; only possible within close proximity. Only in a particular social context.
         The finger snap had never made an appearance in these parts.
         And there we had the antidote to all the harshness and grime. The means and hope of endurance.
         David back at Joo Chiat Hotel talked of the violence directed at the Chinese in Malaysia. Not Westerners as much as the Chinese. Resentment and jealousy driven, according to David.
         At one time there had been parity between the currencies. Witness now, David challenged. Malaysia had stalled, was still poor and down-at-heel. On the other side of the Causeway they saw a new project begun virtually monthly. Have you been to the new Gardens by the Bay? asked David.
         There was another side to the matter difficult to convey to David.