Saturday, August 3, 2019

Orange Harvest


One single, solitary orange that morning at the market, when there were more than two dozen on display the day before and more in the boxes. All gone, Mr Lim reported, only half apologetically. Ugly and spotted the remainder, for which Mr Lim had needed strong-arming in order to accept money. Every 1st and 15th of the month the Chinese bought up, the costermonger’s son informed, as if he were speaking to a fellow just landed from outer space. What the man omitted at the time was that the Hungry Ghost Festival was suddenly upon us again, sprung like a trap on an unsuspecting rodent. Why had there been no mention; not a whisper of any kind. It was the flyweight former ship chandler from the J. C. Complex flats who revealed the matter when he stopped on his bicycle at the Wadi table in the evening. That was the reason for the piles out along the paths at the Haig coming out shortly before dusk. The Haig rarely took such a thorough Han colour; such masses like in the old scroll paintings hundreds of metres long. People on their knees before their offerings, the little candle-lit shrines, joss sticks flashing. Dozens upon dozens. At the path running between Blocks 12 and 9 toward Tanjong Katong Road alone, there must have been ten people, hovering over the little patches they had claimed like prospectors. Throughout the lands of the Emperors ages past the common people had come out like that before nightfall on the appointed day, giving honour to their dearly departed, the candlelight flickering over the lustrous fruit. Pineapples, coconuts and cups of tea before the sticks in the ground. Complete rice meals with orange coloured muffins were common. Someone in the early days had warned the White foreigner that taking these foods meant for the dead was very bad form; very much frowned upon. The play money that was burnt was likely a modern phenomenon. On the return later in the evening after supper when the people had gone, the grounds at the Haig were strewn with the notes, the burnt red sticks and various other refuse, left for the foreign work crews to clear in the morning. The ancestors here were given proper honour. A great number were clearly fondly remembered; they were still greatly missed. Losses such as these were impossible to ever recover. In the midst of it all one inevitably recalled the poor old guy who had jumped from the tenth floor of Block 9 the afternoon before. This was precisely on the eve of the festival. It emerged later, according toMr Lim, that the man had been an outsider; not in fact from the Haig. In the morning he had bought a stool from a store down at the back of the market, in order to get himself over the balcony wall. It seemed he had no connection with the estate, merely chosen it for his desperate act. Jumpers never did it at their own blocks, Jeanette at No. 11 reported. There was no one clinging onto this man's person evidently; not holding him to life. Which meant possibly none would honour him next year at the festival. A sad, logical deduction. In the first report of the event word arrived that that particular incident at Block 9 had been followed by another of the same kind, within the hour, at Block 11. Another person unable to endure trials and hardship longer. In the second case it had been a young boy of sixteen, reportedly. Naturally the tandem had struck everyone at the Haig. On the following morning, however, Mr Lim, a PAP grassroots leader, declared the subsequent report false. Not true; fake news. Mr L. dismissed the matter. Opponents of the government, Mr L. lamented; mischief-makers. There had been something of an epidemic of youth suicide recently. The PSLE—Primary SchoolLeaving Examination—held in the fifth grade, had recently been revamped. There were pressures of all kinds upon the young; the fact was beginning to be recognised. The elderly and the young were the vulnerable groups here. On the mat for the tummy-tighteners in the afternoons one recalled the old medieval monks stretching out in the coffins as a reminder.If the Ghosts were hungry too, it implied neglect, didn't it? Therefore the need of reminder. In the old days as much as current. 

 

 

                                                                                                                       Singapore 2011-2020


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