Mr. Hussein struggling up the steps on the corner with his trays bound in the pristine white cloth. (Bicarb. soda & possibly bleach too, Auntie Helen had taught for that sheen.) Before he climbs up with the aid of the rail near the Wadi fries, Mr H places each pair of trays on the upper level, hoisting himself up unencumbered after that. For some reason Mr H prefers that route rather than the few steps on the corner proper, it is unclear why. (Numbers of people creating a hindrance with his wide wings.) From the ends of the bottom wrapping Mr H. improvises a handle either side for his trays: two pairs one on top of the other, securely fastened. It was impossible for Mr Huss to carry that weight by hand; the forearms rather. A strain, but Mr H manages. Ploughing along the path, head up-and-down like the beast of burden dragging the harrow behind. The trays are delivered in the Haig carpark where Mr H. waits on one of the iron benches beside the access road. The sheltered walkway there is the main route out from the Blocks on that side—Nos. 2, 3, 6, 8, 9, 10 & 11. The old women going around to the market and the bus pass and often stop for the locally famous kway that Mr Hussein has been hawking many years. Perfectly halal of course, and light on the sugar. (The kway’s sweetness comes from coconut milk.) By 11 Mr Huss must away from the first station. Not only does the foot traffic dry up by then, but also Mr Huss cannot hang too long at the one possie. Couple years ago it was much easier seated on the J. C. corner around from Wadi, where the kitchen reno provided some of their furniture and Mr Hussein could perch on the window ledge. The kitchen people indulged Mr Huss, an old man of those years still hawking on street corners. In the earlier days too officialdom had turned a blind eye… It was of course now impossible to erase Mu’s insider knowledge of the early days in the kampung, during Mr H’s younger years when he had made the same rounds; when the add-ons back in those days were provided the young, randy youth. Rather a shock on first hearing. Unexpected. Twenty cent rapids for those Mr Huss accepted; and freebies otherwise for the sweeter, needy lads chosen especially. The secret of raging young male hormones was always air-brushed from conventional reportage, in the Muslim world like any other. Mu also startled when he suggested the incessant razzing of Mr Huss’s that he had overheard might have in fact been because the man fancied the mat salleh, the tall White guy. Late 70s or early 80s, that could certainly not be discounted, not when it came from an old, knowledgeable hand like Muttalib. Greatly missed the dear friend still of course, taken so unexpectedly.
Geylang Serai, Singapore 2011-25
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