Working For the Man

The night owls around here stop by for brekkie at noon. Like the Indian-Malay chubby chappie on his electric scooter, songkok and shades morning, noon and night, asking just now that his plate be protected from the birds while he fetched his teh. The Feeders roundabout were not deterred by the stiff fines and continued as before, here at Wadi discreetly dropping their tidbits between the aisles.

Yesterday Auntie Helen had reported being ticked off by a passerby for feeding the crows on the verge opposite the house. The chap had thought she was feeding the pigeons, but really the prohibition applied equally to all birds. Now Helen was left with a couple packs of beef she had bought especially that were much relished by the crows.

Often the pigeons did beat the crows to her repast, Helen had conceded with a downcast aspect like a sports’ fan having to acknowledge a superior opponent.

            In the car park coming out a little Indo shortie had been washing her boss’s late model Honda. Surrounded by her buckets, the lass stood on the lip of the rear door stretching on tippy toes in an attempt to reach the proper half of the roof. No chance like that, Honey. If the boss was one of the vile turds and tall enough perchance, he would pay out on the poor thing. Girl could have clambered over the fenders to ensure the job was done as required.

             Still in her teens this girl despite the law, needing to return to the flat for cooking the lunch, feeding grandma, cleaning, ironing, walking the dog and amusing the kids. Some of the employer ads on the sites underlined the need for self-motivation in the girls, finding work in-between assigned tasks. Understandably, it was tiresome endlessly supervising chores.

            Like birds of augury, at Wadi the Sweeps appeared in the gutter opposite shortly after noon, a gang of four with straw brooms, shovels and plastic bags, working ahead of the truck that protected them from being run down. Conditions had improved lately for the foreign workforce; there was competition now attracting the labour to other countries. Sometimes a laggard among the men would slip behind the truck stuck at a drain, yellow Wellies & Hivis keeping him protected, hopefully.

            The incidence of youth cutting leapt out of the newspaper unexpectedly this morning. It was mostly artless boosterism, cheeriness and colour dominating in the Straits Times, weekends particularly. The bad news occurred on foreign shores far and near—racial problems, conflict, crime, corruption, drought and water shortage. Currently Chennai was approaching utter catastrophe.

  One in three among the 18-24 year old cohort cutting themselves.

  The smiling technocrats steering the ship of State had very little chance of comprehending. Within this closely managed hub on the Equator the ignorance was perhaps more than any place else on the planet. (Tops for longevity, safety, health care & edu. by some measures notwithstanding.)