Famously, here in
Singapore we have a fabled meritocracy, level playing-field, each rewarded
according to his/her deserts. Corruption in so many places in the near
neighbourhood makes it difficult to comprehend how the people there can
breathe. What's worse, divisive race-based politics, much contest and dissent,
demonstrations, criticism, bold and troubling accusations. A few days ago a
photogenic young Malay lawyer in ML had even joined an Opposition Chinese-based
political party. A Malay bright young thing, concerned about the consequences
of preferential treatment for her own people. Unheard of since the ruling party
won government fifty years ago. (Unbroken run as here on the more favoured
island that was once part of Malaysia.)
We thrash out the matters at the morning and evening tables at Mr. T. T. and Sri Geylang Cafe, uninhibited almost entirely now as the days of capital punishment and Cold Storage incarceration without trial are pretty much in the past in Sin'pore. A little flickering flame of democratic optimism. There are a handful of Opposition MPs currently in Parliament; no longer government ranks filling all sides of the chamber; much closer to picture-book politics now. (Sigh.)
The Angel, the Lion of the Isa and some others were raking over latest developments a short while ago beneath lavender and apricot dusk over-head at Geylang Road, warm, sweetened tehs lubricating; Anita drawing on an iced Milo. General perturbation at the reports of the racial tension on the other side of the Causeway, bombings of churches someone said. The young pretty Malay candidate for the Chinese Opposition party examined; the great consternation her example had created. Shia harried and attacked either on the Peninsular or down in Java made young Neet blanch; the terribly calumnied Shia. On the other side Brunei. Oh Lord yes! What to say about that recent pickle? One of the richest men in the world, the Sultan there, wants the sharia, who's to gainsay? The population reported firmly in favour. Sharia meaning amputations for thieves, stoning for adulterers, death to apostates and sodomists /catamites. Pretty heavy-duty. Over-blown a little perhaps? Can one take it seriously, factoring the four reliable eye-witnesses stipulated in Islam and all that?
The Angel sputtering over his teh at this juncture. Erupting. Very good thing the mouth was not full of goreng pisang.
— Are you kidding? Do you know of what you talk? You think this is a game? Grrrh!...
Most of this less than perfectly articulate; the author has joined the dots of spittle. (It was the same who had raised doubts about what might eventuate on the ground in north Borneo.)
Most unangelic like Gabriel. Made one wonder about the heavenly being's true position in the ranks, momentarily.
Long story short, years ago the Angel had been walking the earth in a closer approximation to human form, walking the earth, the sidewalk, in Banda Aceh in this case on the northern tip of Sumatra in a small party in search of taxi.
Not such a lot about. Not in Banda Aceh—the Verandah of Islam. (The Arab traders in their dhows had made landfall in S-E Asia first of all in Aceh.) Finally, finally. On the horizon. Yes! Yes, wheels.
No-one beat the Angel in seeing the opportunity, raising the arm. Hoy there! Hey! HEY!
Christ almighty! Stone the crows! Unwittingly.
How was the unenlightened man to know?
In order to hail the approaching conveyance the Angel had raised high the arm, waving the hand like a fan while bouncing on the balls of his feet.
As one immediately the lads roundabout jumped on him, on the Angel's offending limb and in particular hand.
Pounce. Gabby disappeared as if plucked by his maker in a single scoop.
Thank the lord none of the chaps had been holding a sharp object at the time.
— Get out man! Down! You wan your kepala detached from your trunk?!...
— ….What?... How?... Gentlemen if you please…. When the man could speak. Garbled again.
Not five minutes since the party had risen from the convivial dinner table.
— Not the left sir. No. No under any circs. God forbid....
It needed a short few minutes to explain…. Oh, poor Angel blinking, more white than white sheets washed in coconut milk, every last bit of colour drained….Golly what a fright!
....Raising the left like that. Offered to the street, to the passing traffic, for all eyes to see…. Hand with which one.... cleans oneself. Beneath…. What in God's name could the man have been thinking? Entire company's lives at hazard…. Ooooh.... Such a polite considerate chappie ordinarily.
In Banda Aceh under sharia they didn't mess around even a quart century ago. Lived to tell the tale thankfully our Gab. Dark cloud descending upon Brunei now.
We thrash out the matters at the morning and evening tables at Mr. T. T. and Sri Geylang Cafe, uninhibited almost entirely now as the days of capital punishment and Cold Storage incarceration without trial are pretty much in the past in Sin'pore. A little flickering flame of democratic optimism. There are a handful of Opposition MPs currently in Parliament; no longer government ranks filling all sides of the chamber; much closer to picture-book politics now. (Sigh.)
The Angel, the Lion of the Isa and some others were raking over latest developments a short while ago beneath lavender and apricot dusk over-head at Geylang Road, warm, sweetened tehs lubricating; Anita drawing on an iced Milo. General perturbation at the reports of the racial tension on the other side of the Causeway, bombings of churches someone said. The young pretty Malay candidate for the Chinese Opposition party examined; the great consternation her example had created. Shia harried and attacked either on the Peninsular or down in Java made young Neet blanch; the terribly calumnied Shia. On the other side Brunei. Oh Lord yes! What to say about that recent pickle? One of the richest men in the world, the Sultan there, wants the sharia, who's to gainsay? The population reported firmly in favour. Sharia meaning amputations for thieves, stoning for adulterers, death to apostates and sodomists /catamites. Pretty heavy-duty. Over-blown a little perhaps? Can one take it seriously, factoring the four reliable eye-witnesses stipulated in Islam and all that?
The Angel sputtering over his teh at this juncture. Erupting. Very good thing the mouth was not full of goreng pisang.
— Are you kidding? Do you know of what you talk? You think this is a game? Grrrh!...
Most of this less than perfectly articulate; the author has joined the dots of spittle. (It was the same who had raised doubts about what might eventuate on the ground in north Borneo.)
Most unangelic like Gabriel. Made one wonder about the heavenly being's true position in the ranks, momentarily.
Long story short, years ago the Angel had been walking the earth in a closer approximation to human form, walking the earth, the sidewalk, in Banda Aceh in this case on the northern tip of Sumatra in a small party in search of taxi.
Not such a lot about. Not in Banda Aceh—the Verandah of Islam. (The Arab traders in their dhows had made landfall in S-E Asia first of all in Aceh.) Finally, finally. On the horizon. Yes! Yes, wheels.
No-one beat the Angel in seeing the opportunity, raising the arm. Hoy there! Hey! HEY!
Christ almighty! Stone the crows! Unwittingly.
How was the unenlightened man to know?
In order to hail the approaching conveyance the Angel had raised high the arm, waving the hand like a fan while bouncing on the balls of his feet.
As one immediately the lads roundabout jumped on him, on the Angel's offending limb and in particular hand.
Pounce. Gabby disappeared as if plucked by his maker in a single scoop.
Thank the lord none of the chaps had been holding a sharp object at the time.
— Get out man! Down! You wan your kepala detached from your trunk?!...
— ….What?... How?... Gentlemen if you please…. When the man could speak. Garbled again.
Not five minutes since the party had risen from the convivial dinner table.
— Not the left sir. No. No under any circs. God forbid....
It needed a short few minutes to explain…. Oh, poor Angel blinking, more white than white sheets washed in coconut milk, every last bit of colour drained….Golly what a fright!
....Raising the left like that. Offered to the street, to the passing traffic, for all eyes to see…. Hand with which one.... cleans oneself. Beneath…. What in God's name could the man have been thinking? Entire company's lives at hazard…. Ooooh.... Such a polite considerate chappie ordinarily.
In Banda Aceh under sharia they didn't mess around even a quart century ago. Lived to tell the tale thankfully our Gab. Dark cloud descending upon Brunei now.
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