Woman waiting tables next door owns only the one good pair of tights for work, lurid pink, which a darker toned scarf complements in some kinda rough harmony. In between the blouse is unimportant with the apron. Thus she carries it off night after night. Rolled up makes it half 9; in for the overnight haul. The hot fluro was not a sign she was putting out, by the way: even on Meldrum–Sui Nam corner, a modicum of finery was required for customers. Here the Bangla lad with four years schooling back home explains that he has never had any kind of problem with the Chins, the Malays or anyone else. Nobody. Many in fact do not know his nationality and assume he is Malay. Nice looking skinny boy sporting a recent rust tint he did at home with a RM5.50 sachet. Two years in, his accomplished Malay has been added to native Bengali & serviceable Hindi/Urdu. English could be parroted rather than read, but Yasir is well in advance of any of the other foreign workers on that corner. When interpreting is required, it is Yasir who is the man. Fitted in to his new environment. Nobody disturb me. The verb too in possession had surprised. Well done lad! Written in caps back of journal syllable by syllable, there was need of encouragement and aid, but Yasir does climb that mountain and pleasure found at the summit. Broad grin. Not so hard, hey. A task now to find something appropriate for the lad on the Popular shelves at the mall—not the worst bookshop in creation, by the way; possibly print up for him this little sketch of himself and his corner, where he will spend the remaining three years of his contract, before returning home for good he hopes, if some kind of business there can be engineered. RM1k per month, board & keep provided. Six hundred was sent to parents and the remainder sufficient for new tees from the bargain tables, phone & Iciggies. Yasir reminded of the simple mnemonic for Bengali Thanks: Dunno vat. Oz-Germanic intonation. Nineteen.
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