Poison

The width of the smiles on these old guys and gals. You don't get it on the other side. Men of seventy and up grinning like school-boys. In the HDB towers of course nada. A report in the newspaper a day/two ago described the familiar relations between the inhabitants there. Hi — Bye was about the extent of it, people lamented. Keeping of each other's spare house-keys, watering plants during absences &etc. Where was the old kampung spirit, the gotong royong?

         The authorities were onto it with provision of more seating along walkways and outdoor areas, art-work and greenery to be introduced in an effort to create an encounter, have people meet, stop and linger.

         The scrambled egg reassembled. 

         You could count on some ease with a tea at Sri Geylang usually. This afternoon that too was disturbed.

         Four tables ahead a pigeon suddenly down from the awning flat on its back—BANG—on the table-top.

         Long minute of trembling, fluttering wings and deep shuddering, until one last movement that ran through the whole of its body left the bird motionless.

         While this was still in progress another too of the same kind two feet away on the ground, on its belly again like the other fluttering wings. Here the bird could not raise itself, seemed to lack the strength in its core. There was strength in its wings, but not its body.

         For a moment or two it appeared this second may have found some crumbs beneath the table and between the legs of the chair. Pecking at the concrete possibly.

         Soon the gapings showed themselves to be gasps. The muscles in the neck were weak too.

         You could not avoid glances left and right. What was going on?

         More than a dozen diners sat in complete disregard.
         For a quarter hour the second struggle continued. A chap a metre and a half from the first bird continued at his plate without a single side-glance. Not a flicker.

         The Malay waiter eventually spotted the creature on the table-top and went to take it away. Lifting the bird by the wings that had remained upright he moved toward the roadway.

         — Not the gutter! No! Not for the Sweep to deal with later when he did his rounds....   

         In the last couple of weeks a female Sweep had been assigned this area of lower Geylang stretching around to the Carpmael house. Under her head-cover the woman showed an unexpected Chinese face. Malaysian.

         Instead of the gutter the chap placed the bird on one of the timber piles for the upcoming Ramadan stalls. Shortly thereafter doing his rounds at the table-rows toward the head of Changi Road fellow noticed the second bird. 

         That is strange, momentarily across his brow.

         This bird too was taken over to an opposite corner of the same pile where it was left to struggle a good long while, eventually slipping onto the flooring beside one of the tree trunks that had been wrapped in white plastic sheeting for the festivities. Later a passing couple pushing a pram stopped to sprinkle the ailing head with water.
          In the evening Beefy turned up skiting over a $500 win at the Penang races. Usually the big fella asked about the day's subject. On this occasion the birds were volunteered. No sooner the mention than Beef roared. Roared and growled as he did sometimes at sore points, matters that got his goat.

         — Poison! Growled the half-tiger, half-gorilla. Poison was what was involved here. The Environment Officers had been on their rounds.

         Beef knew all about it. The Enviro guys mixed rat poison with bird-seed and rice. One or two hours did for the fowls, according to Beef. He was against the practice. Mostly Chinese the Enviro men, Beef reckoned.

         Beefy understood the problem of droppings and possible disease spread by the birds—a blob of excrement sat on the adjacent table. But even so.

         At Changi the ASP (Assistant Superintendent of Prison), a uniformed purblind Tamil who wore dark glasses, on one occasion ordered the inmates to catch the stray cats around the place. When they had seven or eight in a gunny the Super ordered the sack to be dropped into a pot of boiling water.

         Beefy's horror and disgust remained.