Popular old guy with fair savings. Savings rather than
child-support as one can tell the difference from the threads and extensive
accoutrements /accessories. Fine pin striped suit trousers, giant polished rocks
each finger and possibly the thumb on one hand and some kinda bracelet the
other. (Buddhist, though chocolate beads rather than jade.) The small clutch
bag might have been leather. Bright red Giordano polo; ornate silver handle on the
walking-stick alone spoke volumes. Almost a queen or cross-dresser in certain
aspects. Earlier the man had attracted a couple of mid-aged youngsters who
raised his hand to their foreheads and delivered food and drink to the table
where they sat soaking up the pearls of wisdom. Some of the visiting Batam veterans
(as Jafaar calls them) knew uncle was good for a plate of fried pisang and sweet teh. Bright smile never failing;
salute accompanying. Fine, generous spirit. Soon after the last of the acolytes
had departed Granddad began collecting his belongings and rising slowly.
Farewell something something. Couldn’t be caught. Balik huh, uncle? Back to the digs?... Pray,
the man corrected…. Oh! Solat,
OK. Fair enough…. Sorry. Apology that was from his side. The old man was sorry
for what one might reasonably ask? What did this chap have to apologize for on
point of departure? Go on, can you guess?... Granted it is not easy; not from
your vantage there reading of this little episode on a Sunday afternoon on the
Equator…. A man leaves a chap alone here in these parts, leaves a fellow in the lurch high
and dry solitary, constitutes in fact far from fine form. Desertion.
Abandonment. Reprehensible conduct. A lone figure here is rather a pitiable
circumstance. Sorry to do it to you my man, uncle meant. I go first, the
people will often say too half-apologetically. (Certainly a fair reason
for it in this particular instance.)
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