Traffic Wardens - Malaysia

These lads will never sit behind the wheel of a motor of their own, no matter how high the Malaysian economy booms. ("Defying gravity" currently at 5.4% in the second quarter of this year, according to the NST report on the Merdeka — Independence Day — celebrations yesterday.) For some reason a good proportion are Indian; a few Malays seen down by the Chow Kit market, here in KL. In Johor Baru it was Indians again in the developing funky side of town, the old Chinese shop-house quarter. At first one wondered just what was going on. Were these lads jumped out of a car to help guide an uncertain driver into a spot, even a straight angle park?  Have they exited cars to search for a spot while their driver circles? In the first instance, that was the look of it. In fact no, not the case. Beside Masjid Jamek in the Indian quarter the other day, a short, white-haired Tamil trooped up and down in front of the prata shop, holding styrofoam cut-outs of an over-sized pair of hands, fingers extended and slots at the heel of the palm for grip. One way and another he went beside the parked cars on a very busy one-way thoroughfare, signal glove-hands high and waving like an operatic Italian traffic cop, to no-one in particular. The heat, humidity, zero life chances have done in a good number. One of the Chow Kit lads, younger, had gone ratty the same. It was possible some of the men were not primarily engaged in a commercial venture at all, but rather a psychological one. Like the rest of us, they have been captured by the romance of the motorcar, the freedom, lordliness, stylistics. The elevation and glamour. None of it to be seized in their own cases no matter how many times returned in the karmic cycle. These were condemned to walk the dirty, oily, broken bitumen in their sandals to the end of their days. One or two had been spotted barefoot. If they had the chance to escort the privileged into a space, even if no consideration will be offered them, still they have taken the wheel almost of these chariots; attained a position in the fraternity. (The F1 fuzz had a hold of KL too.) Outside the restaurants, the hotels and shopping strips, some of the lads were turning a dollar. Alert and quick, they have their keen eye on the needy drivers. They will ease them forward slowly, monitor the gutter, check the space behind for straightening. All with dutiful care. Around in front of the Vistana, beside the popular Hokkaido Seafood Resto, two or three regulars marshal the evening diners and guests. Everyone seeks a spot close to the target of course, especially in the dark streets of this quarter. A certain kind of insurance will be understood as part of the bargain, bought cheaply at one or two ringgit. Some of the drivers have been seen having a comradely chat.