Taken For a Ride

Through the kitchen window Doreen read the cloud early blowing over from East Coast. An hour was enough for her smalls out on the poles; larger items could be brought in onto the other poles indoors. An hour and half in fact before the first drops started, at least out at Little India. Chin chap in the rear of a small lorry in Lavender Street was caught out. In front against the cabin the two Indian lads had good cover overhead. This fellow at the end was going to get a wet arse, as the tradies in Australia say before getting themselves in out of the weather. Like for contemporary cricketers under the TV advertising regime, foreign workers here were not disturbed by drizzle, no question of an appeal—the game proceeds. The tools were the other factor for the young Chinese roustabout, there was a variety down on the floor of the tray. Luckily a long sheet of veneered ply was ready at hand, it would provide good cover for both tools and legs up to the knees. The rain would blow in through the sides of course, the two in front unable to escape that either. Depended how far they needed to travel. Would the driver take pity and seek cover if a slashing tropical storm set in? That depended too. If a concrete pour was scheduled, or the lads were particularly required at site, well, they could dry off back at the ranch. The blazing sun was worse than rain, South Indian lads well used to it of course from back home; they were much less likely to suffer heatstroke. Often one found cardboard sheets under the roofs of the lorries up front by the cabins; the red plastic chairs from the eateries could also often be found in the lorries, their legs cut down by fine-toothed hack-saws. Seven years ago on the first sightings of these transports at all hours, deep into the night, the appearance was of convicts or the condemned being carted off to prison and execution yards. A dozen or more clinging to the bars, most of the men downcast, but a few looking out. It seemed even then there was a law on the statute books prohibiting such transport. It reminds now of another, more recent law. There was to be no more idling of motors allowed here; the Republic of Singapore took its green credentials very seriously. No more running motors allowed except for such-and-such and such-and-such other. Often one found cabbies, lorry, bus and regular drivers parked and seats reclined as the men soaked up the aircon.