The lads hailed from the same kampung up near the Thai border, just 7K away. The capital of Kelantan State, Kota Bahru (New Castle, or Fort), was the nearest town. A decade or two ago the roofs in the kampung were covered with mangrove leaves from the river; now everyone had aluminium.
After five years working on the resort island of Rawa, a couple of years in KL and a short stint first time round in Singapore, Shai had had some of the kampung rubbed off. Rawa off the east coast of peninsular Malaysia drew a hipster surfing contingent, mainly German & French, with whom Shai had made a number of friends over the years. In the hotels and bars Shai had picked up drinking, smoking and loafing. When Shai sent money home to his family from Rawa he warned it should only be used on utilities & repairs—not food—as it had been earned in proximity to alcohol.
Near fifteen years younger, Api was a different case. Api had come more or less directly from the past. Quietly watchful; straightened, sharp looks; and the broadness of the smiles when they came were indicators. Not much more than a dozen words was the extent of Api's English, which understandably added to his shyness.
Coming from the same kampung, about a hundred metres between their houses, in Singapore the lads were brothers. It was Api's suggestion to strike out for the Republic. Past his mid-30s, Shai took the opportunity of a new direction.
Berliners met on Rawa had called on Shai to visit. Shai's plan was six months minimum in Singapore, earnest saving and a trip to Berlin to see a Western city. The Berliners had offered accommodation; every chance of a warm reception. Even so, Shai did not want to rely on that. And he couldn’t go empty-handed. Api wanted to save without any particular purpose in mind.
Work, endure the regime, see where they were in six months.
Even after a fortnight, Shai sought an opinion on their prospects; an independent, respected and objective viewpoint.
They had been observed; they were as they appeared. What chance of fulfilling their plan in Singapore, did you think?
Eleven hundred dollar per month. A rough calculation of expenses that included food, travel, tobacco & phone came in conservatively at $400. Accommodation was provided by the company. Twelve hour days, every second Sunday free. Working Sundays without the Super present was a relaxation too—they could cover the essentials, linger over lunch and get a bit of kip in the afternoon.
The work was hard, impossible to fulfil. Nineteen six storey condos on the beachfront, basements and pools, between three men. All the cleaning equipment was of little avail. Floors, glass, patios, steam bath, walkways, over a hundred metres width in the block. As each day passed the Super got pickier. If he was unsatisfied the lads could be sacked on the spot and repatriated to Malaysia, no comeback. For the first week their passports were retained as a precaution against absconding.
Buying the lads a cigarette each under the counter at the usual eatery brought a rapid reaction from the pair. Api blamed Shai for harping too much on money.
The former wanted tailors; the latter the cheaper tabacci. Bought individually, seventy cents apiece; a small pouch of 100 grams that made 25-6 rollies, two dollars eighty.
Buying was one thing; bad enough. Striking the light for Api positively made the lad jump from his seat.
It was not just a twitch. A jolt and start.
Shai spoke to his friend quietly, touching his hand, settling Api enough to accept the offering.
In Malaysia, not just in the kampung but across the country, the big man, the rich Chinese businessman, always had his cigarette lighted for him by his first man. The first man was the Chinaman's shadow; part valet, part bodyguard. First man was quick on the draw, getting his fingers on the light the moment the boss's hand reached for the pack.
In the kampung you could bet an elder never struck light in a youngster presence either; that would be against the natural order.
Api had never seen such a thing.
The bodily fright passed. Api puffed and blew through his nose as if in hiding in the jungle.
Api is "fire" in bahasa Malay. The flame was visible underneath the lad’s skin.
After a handshake, Api reached for his heart. You got used to that in Geylang Serai, Singapore.
At twenty three, only one girlfriend to date. At the split Api cried. More fire; no surprise.
The lads were not as disciplined as the Bangla and Indians. The Bangla and Indians bought 25kg bags of rice and cooked at home. Shai and Api ate out every night. $2.50 meals.
Sundays after 6pm, the prying security cameras turned aside, the lads were millionaires doing laps in the pool at the condos, Api thrashing the water.
Sentosa Cove
The most desirable address in the world
The boys got a laugh hearing of the unfortunate cleaning crew at the National Library, dusting and polishing the leaves in the pot plants.
After makan, the food, Api was nervous sitting at table. Didn't they need to get off? Wouldn't the Indian be annoyed occupying the table half an hour later?
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