Kerchief

 

We always had little embroidered handkerchiefs like that at home. It may have been only the women who kept them tucked in their left sleeve, where they made a little lump at the wrist. Real handkerchiefs did not appear for us children until around high school, and even then they weren’t the full adult size. Along the Mustafa passage here lunchtimes there might be five or six workers from the department store, all in their sky blue shirts and blouses, getting some shut-eye after their meal. Beyond Verdun corner there were more over the benches and within the alcoves. In the first section some of the regulars could be identified  by the backs of their heads and their rounded shoulders. One broad-backed younger chap was clearly struggling with the regime; there was never a pass without him down for the count in the middle section, head resting on his forearm. The lady with the little blue & white kerchief brought from home, little older than the lad, managed no better the heat. There were likely early rises and crossings over the Causeway from Malaysia here for much of this workforce. Naturally the department store was airconned; that provision was one of the great pluses for the commercial sector. Nevertheless, many of the Mustafa staff were zonked by lunch; like legions of others, they would snooze on the buses & trains homebound. After her meal each day the lady here lays her colourful cloth neatly over her forearm for some softer cushioning; overnight she might wash it with a fragrant detergent. It seems to be the only one in her wardrobe at home, or at least reserved for the purpose. In former time in some countries women would happily celebrate certain occasions twirling such apparel over their heads. Few in Singapore seemed to use handkerchiefs; the elderly hawked tissue packs on the street, 3 @ $2. Viet and Mainland Chinese groups flew in couple of years ago for intense four week peddling.