Picnic

Sunday afternoon soon after lunch. Young scarved women in clusters over the unmowed grass opposite, a pair against one of the Rain trees following the shade around the trunk. The Deaf came up from the rear a short time ago touching the flank of his friend and indicating the fan turned in this direction. Without it so hot it made you crazy, he signs toward the outdoors beyond the awning and then knob-twisting at his temple. The man caught some shut-eye briefly afterward until Cha the cabbie landed with his pals and started up a little conversational racket. Usually quiet and reserved, questioning more than talking himself—a listening ear behind the wheel you would guess—sometimes Cha does turn unexpectedly voluble. A Chin convert of many years now, Islam has taken Cha, together with the other two regular Chin converts here, away from his ethnic group. (Some estrangement has resulted in the families too in all three cases.) Sitting at the tables the scarved women could not escape a charge for drinks at least, and of course there was no bringing in of outside food to the Eateries. (Regulars went unquestioned.) The women have cooked at home this morning and brought flasks of tea or water. Next door in the neighbouring Carpmael house Lia the mixed blood (as she called herself) Filipina-Indian is being starved of food by her stingy, rich employers. Seven kilograms Lia has lost in two months there. Indian Muslims in a four storey house, two cars, a tailoring business and singing prayers in chorus regularly, begrudge the maid more than a small serve of rice and some curry twice daily. (Breakfast is coffee.) Lia is aiming to convert to Islam at the end of the year; currently she is taking classes on Islamic history on her free days in order to better prepare. Prior to this employment Lia had worked with other Indian Muslims, who though they sometimes had insufficient money to pay her treated Lia very well, as part of the family. It must have been their example that first attracted Lia to the religion of the Prophet; prior to starting in Carpmael Lia did not believe Muslims could be so uncharitable. Unable to hold back her hunger, an occasional apple is taken from the fruit bowl, a biscuit eaten in the toilet; last night again there was a long wait for dinner and only noodles served her. A special boy hurt in a motor accident and unable to communicate is Lia's particular charge; but the house is also large and with two cars much cleaning is required. All more difficult on an empty stomach. The goodness of Islam is everywhere apparent in this quarter; perhaps the goodness of the culture and community underlying—a lavender coloured two dollar bill just now drawn from a rear pocket wallet for a lame chap stopping at a table. Is it the strong enjoinder in Islam that produces the everyday generosity and promptness of alms-giving? Were Christian communities the same a century ago? (Sometimes the Malays will tell you Chinese beggars and tissue-sellers know to come over to Geylang Serai for the pickings they can expect there.) The small daily glories on this Changi corner in particular opposite the market have detained this author nearly forty months. There was no thought of anything like this term on landing.