Supper of hummus, naan & sesame crackers with Hul last night. When the gal arrived at the table she asked why we were sitting with the old Malay with the grotesque skin condition. Ah, well. It was always worth something a little gesture in that direction. Finding the chap at the regular table recalled the girl on the bus the day before. The two together pressed a little case of its own—two lives like that, being lived in those forms, close-by in neighbouring suburbs. Particular mysteries of the passage, one not long begun and the other of long duration. The Malay chap had first been encountered at the supermarket where he stacked shelves back in earliest days, 14-15 years ago. Skin conditions were common in the Tropics, kulit doctors putting up their shingles on many a street. Some years ago an old Tamil dermatologist in Johor Bahru, had received plaudits after a foot infection had completely hobbled a friend. (Wading through a street of flooded water the apparent cause.) Sitting by chance with the Malay again awaiting Hul’s arrival, the little girl on the bus rose up again. This lass had been sighted at least once before; the memory came back eventually. Likely it had been on the same Guillemard bus, either the No. 7, or 197. In the case of the Malay, the protuberances were confined to his face, at least as far as one could tell; arms, hands & feet all clear. In the young girl’s case, possibly some muscular condition in the mouth meant she could not retract her tongue. Here too all else appeared perfectly regular, only the tongue fully izplaženo, we said in Serbo-Croat. In our particular context the poking tongue had always been a common resort for the expression of disdain or contempt. Back in the ‘60s in early primary, some of the school-kids had employed the same. The young girl recalled that after this second sighting. Here her tongue was greatly engorged—the medicos would have a particular term for it. Perhaps doubled in size, the thickness above all. Over a good portion of the girl’s tongue a chocolate coating was pasted, from some kind of medicinal application it must have been. Having the tongue out like that day & night no doubt led to infections. The question of breathing occurred later, solely nasal here, possibly. Filling the mouth in that way, how else? Yet the child sat in perfect ease and comfort for the duration, more than 20 minutes. Sitting alone evidently, looking out quite keenly, out the window, but mostly across the interior of the bus and subtly over her fellow passengers. These passengers for their own part made their observations of the girl much more circumspectly. The girl hardly turned her head, but her eyes were brightly active, without taking any particular focus. Very much a regular young girl, perhaps 5-6 years of age; a little pretty too. It may have been a school uniform she wore, without the prominent markings. It was a little strange how her recall had slipped from the time before; strange that she did not provoke much disturbance. Even on the first sighting, that must have been the case. It was her ease and naturalness, perhaps. A large, fleshy tongue, pushed out full length. This was far more than poking. Yet it failed to trouble the young girl. A congenital condition it must have been; she had long become accustomed. A chap who sat diagonally across tried his best to keep his own consternation carefully hidden. None of the other passengers gave the girl any particular regard. Not once did an eye set close on her, apart from this man. A crowded, late afternoon bus, but not the sardine packing—the girl was on full view for anyone to see and study. This single man kept his hazel eyes a little narrowed, directly upon the young girl; studying her person, while at the same time taking good care about it. The chap could not remove his eyes. It took an effort. The figure of the girl had seized him powerfully, it was clear. A foreign worker he may have been, Chinese like the child. Perhaps he had left his own child behind on the Mainland with his wife. The look he gave the girl was clearly troubled, clearly pained and astonished. But all of this reaction the man kept discretely contained, as best he could. The look the man showed was compelling in its own way, quite captivating in its underlying features, its tiny pulses in the flesh. It was impossible to cry out. It was impossible to take the girl in his arms and kiss her forehead. This was a beautiful, quiet compassion. The man seemed unaware he was under observation himself directly opposite. For her part, the girl never once laid her own eyes on him, though likely she was aware of his scrutiny; possibly even aware of its nature. If the man had originally hailed from the interior of the Mainland, he would have known cows, donkeys and oxen had organs of lesser dimension. For the majority of the ride, until near the stop where the girl alighted, it was unclear to whom she was attached. At that age a child could not travel alone on public transport. None of the people either side on the bench seating was associated with the girl. Only in the preparation for alighting did the woman standing with the younger child in the pram further along reveal herself. During the ride this woman too had not cast eye in the child’s direction. Preparing to get down, the girl had looked round for the woman. A domestic helper was the guess, though it was impossible to tell. Filipina or Indo. The service performed by this large group of foreign workers was one of the striking features out in the suburbs.
Singapore 2011-26
