Finalities (Nov25)

The characteristic form in which to convey the sad news.

         Smile on the approach was not unusual, the Tamil auntie coming from behind her counter for it.
         — Shanmugam.
         ...Well, yes. Mugam.

          Lad wasn't in that afternoon. Recent months Mug was struggling with added hours and had begun taking a siesta in the middle part of the day. Often returning around 2 o'clock, a puffy face was shown, droopy eyes and some lesser communicativeness.

         The pause was covered by movement in the passage and the hubbub at the tables.

         — Father die ready, Auntie needed to advise the regular and indeed friend of Mug's.
         The news had only come through at 11 the night before. 

         Heart attack. Other details were unknown. Mugam was leaving for India in the morning.
         Malays used the same form and grammar. The same kind of news had been received a number of times in the community in this necessary sharing of burden.

         The standard misused adverbial usage continued to grate, particularly in this context, as did the bluntness. Traditional peoples were more prepared for finalities.

Accommodating the Maid

Surprise reported after a survey showing one in ten foreign maids or domestic helpers here sleep in a shared room; and furthermore, a " "surprising" number shared with a male.

         "It's terribly unacceptable for a maid to share a room with a male, unless he is physically handicapped," a Maid Agent was quoted.
         Ah. Well. Ya...
         Turned out the chap was thinking of closest supervision of an invalid or disabled—perhaps the helper on a stretcher by the bed in order to catch the employer in the event he rolled from the mattress.
         A MOM — Ministry of Manpower — rep. warned such a state of affairs was unacceptable, protection of modesty was important and contravention of regulations could lead to a $10k fine or year's jail, or both.

                                                       

Straits Times, Saturday 18 June 2016

Assisting the Amazing (July26)

The absence of alcohol in the Malay world has been one of the features—remarked a number of times during the course. Reports of Russian & English hooligans in Paris, drink-driving in Australia and the rest was one thing; the more common and easily under-estimated lubrication that gives a particular cast to interactions and conversation is at least as large a factor. (Numerous friends and acquaintances down in the great Southern land will be scratching their heads... A Rechabite teetotaling wowser!) Where one of the corporate arms was absent, naturally others rush in. Nestlé in this case, a very large entity in this part of the world. Nestlé is "the No. 1 food company in the world," According to a long article in the New Straits Times here in Johor Bahru this morning. An announcement that the company plans to make Malaysia one of its chief procurement centres. "...some 12-15m Nestlé products are consumed daily in Malaysia... Maggi, Nestlé, Nescafe and of course, Milo and Kit-kat." It had taken some months becoming accustomed to the heaped Milo cups at the drinks’ counters, particularly Malaysia & Singapore. (There was less evidence in Indo. Even Phillip Morris had lesser presence there, and perhaps Coke the same.) Down in Geylang Serai Zainuddin had been threatening for months now to confront the operator at Al Wadi over his proudly displayed Halal certificate—fries galore, sweetened drinks of all kinds, boasting Muslim credentials. What does harm to human beings cannot be considered halal, in Zainuddin’s book… The old wizened Indian serving at Restoran Sheza in JB cut a dashing figure in his brightly coloured apron & polo the other afternoon, yellow, red & green respectively. The advertising on the former making a new-comer gulp on his teh:

 Maggi

    Assisting the Amazing

                                                                  

                 New Straits Times, Bloom's Day 2016

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.

The Long Queue (Orlando)‏ Aug25

 

Checkpoint the Malaysian side was 45min plus. Made it late for the Muthu brekkie: no pongal, no uppuma, rawa dosai or masala. Rice, rice the waiter offered. Briyani—which was basmati—was only chicken; no vegetarian. Sorry. GROAN. But then the Mussies were fasting, so put up & shut up. An ordeal as usual the run, excepting the breeze ride from Queen Street, over before it began. (Correct phonetic BAS on the other side entering raised a smirk.) Was it Ramadan responsible for the queues in the hall, or Orlando? A more serious sin again such a shocking crime committed during the holy month of Ramadan. The commentators would be onto that immediately, the moderate, co-opted in the diaspora. Expect no mention even a week later of the mayhem playing on all the minds of those watching the Mid-East from afar, from their impossibly contradictory safe vantage. (A Yugo-stalgic knows well.) Mahathir summed up the position the other day in an interview on the campaign trail against his former party. (Hand it to the old fellow.) Collapse of oil prices, renewables, LNP & CSG alternatives alone will not change the equation up there. One hundred years of policy cannot be turned around in a trice. Netanyahu and Sisi ousted, the Sauds finally overthrown, the catastrophe of Syria resolved ? This side able to absorb sporadic terrors into the foreseeable future. Hardship and horror all sides—mostly theirs. Continuing into the distant future. Bracing for the familiar rhetoric: We must not let the terrorists win. Party-on. Our precious way of life. (Howard down in Oz has been enlisted for the current campaign there, which reminds of his gambit during the early days of the Arab Spring, when he claimed the democratic flowering in those parts stemmed from the intervention. Muppet politics.)

 

Rise Up You Tides and Storms (Feb25)

 

 

Must needs be double-plus brief. The same drum cannot be beaten again and again monotonously.

Young Rajapandian in the Haig car-park shortly after 11pm. Near the children's playground with fair lighting. Maids one commonly saw washing cars mornings & afternoons; rarely men.

Raja was the right colour for the job. Tamil, yes. Stature, moustache, gleaming ready smile.Washing boss's car right?

Yes. Right. Kind of.

Rajapandian's old classic black roadster circa 1953 was not seen at first on its stand immediately in front, plastic bag tightly wrapped around the seat and implements in the front carrier.Washing the boss's Beamer after hours as an add-on? Perhaps a concrete pour had been delayed; a crane perhaps collapsed killing a worker and the lads had defied the foreman walking off the job.

Well, no.

Raja worked as an aircon technician. A qualified tradesman from back in India, where he had earned fully 64,000 rupees monthly... (On the spot conversion: about SG$2k. Decent dough.)Lured to Sing' with false promises of advanced training and upgrade of his qualifications. Likely story, the old recruitment scam.

Tamils were the worst people in the world, Rajapandian wants you to know.

You have heard of happenings in Sri Lanka?... (Uncertain the point here. What, the Tamils on the southern island given up by their northern tribesmen, 67 million strong?... There might be an opportunity to talk again. It was a large park at the Haig.)

Then of course Rajapandian’s own sorry tale here. Cheated by you know who.

Placing the cold milk carton on the hood to retrieve pen and paper was no good. Dirty.

OKOKOKOK.

Four hours nights Rajapandian slept. From shortly before 3am until 7. The aircon stint was 8am - 2:30pm — $420 monthly. Nights car-washing 4pm - 2am; sixty-four cars brought $400.

Doubled more or less what he earned back home, so perhaps he should not complain, regardless the upgrade promised.Chap resisted the abbreviation.

No. Rajapandian.

Young and strong. Would endure.

Like his coolie cousins brought out in the earlier generations: a circle. That the sons of coolies were employing the same exploitative practices gets you more than anything. Reminded of the African traders in league with the ship captains, the Jewish capos in the camps.

An memorable Uncle Tom photograph of the founding father's grandfather, or great-grand here, in his dress coat, vest & bow tie. Sighted in one of the newspapers had told a story all by itself, vivid and persuasive.

You Swallow It Whole

Three
            We Care
                      For The Earth
            We Are Green
                          & Gracious
banners on the condo site corner Lavender and Jalan Besar for the passing traffic. 
            Miscellaneous others—Falling Objects Can be Fatal; Hook On Life Line; Crane Lifting Safety, Keep Your Safety; Working Together Gets the Job Done Safely; Protect Your Hands, Don’t Lose Your Touch; Say No To Falling Objects.
            Not exactly Orchard Road copywriting.
            Elsewhere on other sites tables of zero man-hours lost to injury or death in twenty metre canvas stretches likewise turned out to the street for passersby.
            Meanwhile contractors and corporations getting away with blue murder. 
            As of Thursday last week thirty-three workplace deaths this year in Singapore. (At the end of May sixty-three in Australia, where the population is five times the size. Malaysia in 2014 nine hundred and thirty-three were recorded.)
            In today’s paper report on a case of a heatstroke death last December for a Hebei chap who missed out on the mandatory fourteen day weather acclimatization program. From minus 7 - 3 degree average temperature back home into this hot-house hell laboring on the conds. 
            But he came willingly, locals will respond. Indeed there are long queues waiting.
            The harried maid who is routinely beaten, starved and working from morning to late night, the gardening and garbage details, street-sweeps, cleaners, foreign labourers and others driven like slaves by the heirs of former coolies fed opium by the colonial masters who are aped by the upper tier all too much to stomach some days. Particularly with the pretense, artful manipulation and arrogance and self-serving justifications added. 
            The old story the world over of course: the poor suffering other bombed in their unfortunate cities and deserts, drowning in the seas, herded in the camps not especially difficult for those on the other side to abide.
            A friend recently sent a Youtube attachment of a gabfest featuring the endearing Slovene Slavoj and the Greek former Finance Minister Varoufakis at a Southbank, London public forum shortly after the Paris attacks. Brought reminders of the polished showman Obama gently roasting the media and cracking nicely timed jokes—fine man and all that—while the drone attacks continued. Another French sponsored Israeli-Palestinian conference; humanitarian agencies counting bodies and making press releases in the Mediterranean. Here recently an air show featuring the latest fighter jets entertaining crowds.
                                                                                                                                                                                                              Straits Times, Tue 7 June 2016