Storm

The proper function of making a mark of some kind, striking a blow, proved so much harder again now. In such a time as this what was there possible to say? All the journals were full of pandemic minutiae, when this kind of dread overtopped all areas of thought. In the case of serious illness awaiting an end thought processes wound down and petered out; even terror under bombardment and the like presented a different, more concrete kind of challenge. No doubt our generation was especially unprepared for anything like this. Like the streets now, stretches of mental space were left vacant, contentless; and the inactivity accentuating helplessness. Those coping with children, elderly parents and other such responsibilities escaped the mental challenge. A few days before waking to rain was strange for some odd reason, a little shock transmitted by it. The rains came often enough here, there was nothing especially unusual about that. There may have been some particular kind of lulling sleep in this case and the tropical pelting intruding on deeper unconscious. A dream of Bab associated no doubt added its own disturbance. In this instance her appearance fitted the time more or less: she was found in the laundry concentrated on the detergent she was adding to her soaking trough it must have been. A chemical blue swirl had been carefully measured and poured into a corner of the stainless steel tub that had replaced the older concrete of early days. As these things sometimes went, more strangeness still arrived with Scottie’s mailing of the Woodstock doco, the most recent that had been released last year in the States. There had been some mails exchanged at the time and since then the film had been completely forgotten. Scottie had come upon it somewhere and sent unannounced. MLK & Bobbie K both dead again just prior that same year. An angelic looking young Dylan and his Times are a changing. (In retrospect it was not clear now whether he had performed the song at the festival, whether he had in fact attended at all.) Having been too young for the era the first sighting of Buffalo Springfield’s homely boyishness surprised. All the musicians were remarkably young, like their audience. The thinness that had surprised Scottie was part of that earlier era too, pre-sugar saturation foods. Vietnam of course hovered over all, in the era when remote warfare from the air was something different—though devastating more than enough even then of course. Viewing the film in Singapore after a long acquaintance here and during the current crisis added further dimension. There was the famous story revealed in the last few years of the founding father of the modern republic, Lee Kuan Yew, visiting the Harvard clubhouse during the war with the man who would become a lifelong friend, Henry Kiss, in attendance. After the liberal academics in the gathering had spouted their misgivings about the war, the bombing and mounting ruination, LKY rounded on them unsparingly, famously telling them they made him sick, the lot of them. All that hand-wringing and bleeding-of-heart in the face of the terrible Red menace that was threatening the whole of Western civilisation—and the man’s own little exposed fiefdom down on the equator. Finding ourselves back in the future once more with the old nationalist framework preventing cooperation for our existential challenges, the rain storm, Babi’s careful housekeeping, the young hippies over the green field, left the morning all askew. Walking up for the Buddhist lunches one reserved a special pity for the girls in the bathroom outlets along Geylang Road & Sims Ave, sitting under bright LED among the vanities, the pans and cisterns. At least after the ordered shutdown next week they would be freed from those chambers. This morning the white Toyota man from upstairs coming down to fix himself a late breakfast managed his signature raised brows for greeting. Saturnine they used to call similar in other locales, which doesn’t half cover the case here. The Viet girls from the karaokes have ceased now and the chap prepares regular breakfasts & dinners in-house. Ni came again yesterday for lunch and lovemaking; neither of us could cope without. Last week there had been no need to explain to Ni about the kissing and again yesterday we managed well enough without. The brevity of the episode yesterday left Ni short; in the evening she was thinking ahead about next weekend’s rendezvous and messaged some thoughts about possible adjustments.

NB. Since published by Of Zoos (Singapore), July 2020

Outstanding Performance

Someone doesn’t hurry up this author is going to award himself a rock solid medal of purest, unadulterated gold. No bite for checking. Fully, richly deserved, all the judges agreed. A week ago old Jaf was given a hard time for his rollicking, unceasing drivel. Blah blah blah. The little monster fly…Nobody can catch…Faster than bullet…Blah blah blah. Since all perfect patience and forbearance; nothing else. Quiet and calm. Buddha smiles radiating… The aircraft carrier cannot shoot. Italy how many? Spain…With his health Jaf had no need worry about Co-rona, Co-ron-A. (To the tune of the old hit from the days the man was in fact not a bad little crooner himself. Co-rina, Cor-in-A...) Plenty loaded up already on the Jafaar’s plate how many years now. Dialysis, the growth on his colon, older brother Hussein buried last year. Younger Sharif had recently collapsed. We more fortunate were brought back to the field now. Yes, indeed. Far from the only one in the neighbourhood too taking some little gratification from the new found position.

April Fools’

The Long & the Short

When you can’t get long, sleek and slender, firm inverted tree-trunks were alright too. More than serviceable. The Chinese shortie coming down from the bus on Guillemard was taken from behind. Usually from in front the reported passage from the Prophet came to mind, either from one of the Hadiths, or else the Holy Book itself: observation of the inside of women’s thighs was best left aside. Best avoided; the sight averted. Five or six weeks ago Era the Minangkabau had flipped a switch somehow. Invited over to the cloister, this time she had immediately accepted. Here she was at the door, across the floor to the bed and lying adjacent. Recent pics of Australie and Jakarta. From where flipping to the relevant literary output: the piece where she herself featured no less, together with her Mame and young daughter. Publikaci in Amerika The Minangkabau. How about that?! Four or five words in bahasa included apart from the title—here, here and there. A number of times Era had been shown the piece, but never mind, she had not tired. Preliminary kisses turned pretty serious, decently friendly an’ no end mysterious. We were going where exactly? Some little coyness over opening the mouth confused the picture. You needed to understand after so long. Ahoy! Hold onto your hats. There we were soon enough sailing into the warm waters of yore, wind at our backs to be sure. How long it had been. A Ramadan four years ago woz’n’t? Era and Angely had slept in the corner on a mat, with Era’s younger sister joining for a time. (Relax, no need get excited. There had been no crime.) On two or three occasions in the dead of night—once the sis had departed— Era had answered the call from the bridge. Weary though she had been from the long day’s haul, up she had jumped and didna crawl. The switch had only been part flicked: the Minangkabau would not remove her own clothes now. Not a problem when Doctors and Nurses added to the fun. (This was pre-Covid by the way, three or four weeks before, while the virus had seemed a problem for those Chinese with their unsavoury ways.  Before the local explosion of numbers among the foreign construction workers in the dorms.) Four years later there was thickening in the trunk particularly; the usual pear. Ya, here among those girls still feeling some part of the injunction, twas not uncommon to resist presumption. A week or two later repeat of the same. Sweet and one brightly burning flame. Since her separation from her loafer husband eight or nine years before, almost certainly for Era there had been no lovers more. Always makes a difference.

Distancing (May26)

After having missed last week, it was not possible to keep Ni away today. She had assumed more than likely it would be the same precautionary measures again this week. But it was not possible. Like a fortnight ago when we had started with the careful practice, we refrained from kissing. On the way over Ni had stopped at Tekka to pick up the choice naan and chutney and made a similar salad to last time, this week adding pineapple and lemon. Less of a Greek repast this week. After Ni left a walk was taken around the neighbourhood, half-hoping Neet might be at Azhar’s Table 16 again. Not to be. Lat also had not contacted from the night before; no doubt her employer had forbidden an outing, like the last couple weeks. The fantasy of a first union with Lat in her scarf and added mask came to nothing. Now more than likely we had lost our chance. Something further seized from the day was a pavement buzz-cut in the usual middle Geylang lorong, where the jovial Chinese construction worker moonlighting seemed to recall his customer. His previous customer had obtained a good deal of attention for his scissor cut; we two though were done in five minutes. In the open air it was safe enough and the barber wore a mask. Snake Brand talc, 250ml. Singer machine oil, 4 - 5inch paintbrush and thick, broken pieces of foam the tools of trade. (The latter for applying the talc and brushing down—declined in this case.) Understandably, the man was shy about photographing. Hearty congratulation on Wuhan was received with warm thanks by the barber.


29 March 2020

Main Force 20_May26

 

 

The lady at the share table had a little embarrassed coughing fit that seemed to be simply because something of the meal had not gone down right. As the government notices directed, she coughed into her elbow, husband opposite eventually passing a tissue. 1.2 - 3m. was likely enough separation to be out of harm’s way—which did not apply to hubbie. Separation, no face touching, distance in queueing, no shaking, and from old, neither was it advisable to sit cross-legged. Another clot would be no good at all right now, bad timing. The same with a traffic accident, a fall; &etc.

Sometimes an incident, an image or fragment of some kind forced itself upon you here, and not infrequently in one of the most densely urbanised locales on the planet. It doesn’t go away. Recurs rather again and again in memory.

Returning home from supper early last night, a chap was down on his knees in a tight corner behind the Chinese apparel shop at Block 10, the smallest tower of the Haig Estate, which fronted Geylang Road. Four or five years ago along that wall the men used to gather for the games of dam. Police presence and a large surveillance camera at the head of the path had sent them away. (Games often had wagers on the side, one of the reasons for the keenness of the crowd.)

In tight little corners like this older men would sometimes take a pee. This corner must have been alright, otherwise the man would not have chosen it for his maghrib prayer.

It was the improvised, tight space that struck so strongly, the man going up and down with his head into the narrow perpendicular. There may have been a mat before him, or cardboard possibly.

Drawn by the vegetable gardens, there were rats along the path nearby, especially as darkness fell. People were walking to-and-fro along the upper pathway 10m off, children with parents, joggers & cyclists.

The man had needed to do his prayer and hadn’t been able to find any place better.

The Converts had a prayer room out back, but at that hour they were likely closed. Opposite the Wisma had some kind of provision, though it seemed the designated prayer room there had been included in the government order.

The mosques had been closed two Fridays now; almost two whole weeks. Something that had never happened before in Singapore. This Ramadan there would be no pasar malam, or any other kind of gathering. More than ever there was need for prayer.

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                   28 March

Wanting Definition

Helen’s lovely, strange song late morning through the party wall after she had settled, it must have been. One was rarely gifted free and intimate delight of that sort. A complete, extended song all from within—Helen didn’t listen to the radio or play music. A few weeks before there had been a similar performance, for which Helen had been complimented. A moment’s concern at the report was quickly overcome and the bouquet received with pleasure. With the interviewing work stopped and the cutting back on her food prep, as she had revealed some weeks before, the more relaxed routine was agreeing with Helen. The feeding was still continuing the same, but the cooking every second day and the organic purchases from the market might have slipped now. It had been some while since Helen had been seen with her shopping jeep making toward the Haig. None of the mogs roundabout seemed to be any the worse for it. With that fine, lilting rhythm Stojan’s story of his Ljube came to mind. After love-making, Stole reported Ljube’s whistling and lightness in the kitchen and at her housework. Stole and Ljube did not get on, but they had their moments, evidently. You could tell too from Stole’s account there was some tolerable peace in the house in Werribee, beyond that generated by sexual fulfilment. For her part likewise, Helen was managing decently enough by her own devices.

            After lunch at the Buddhist, a wild goose chase for a newspaper led all the way back to ABC beneath the overhead rail-line. Refreshing low and quick-growth greenery eye-level along that path, while above your head a great many tonnes of concrete and steel were hung. The question arose: for each of the housing and construction towers here—in many cases fifty and sixty storeys—how much of the same material went deep into the ground? Say 10-15% of each upper tier? Recently Omar had gotten excited at learning of a friend’s connection with high government officials in East Timor. A relative was trying to broker a deal for riverine sand, hard to come by now in the construction industry. Yesterday Mike Tong had sent an item reminding of the wondrous Wuhan cityscape that included an iridescent green river.

            Days without definition otherwise. A Friday without the run to the mosques, the men keeping away from the kopi shop tables too. Trafficless roads ought to have been more welcome. 

           The latest news had penetrated to the Sumo Deaf, who kept this evening to a lonely table against the railing on Onan Road.

            The ginger in the teh after supper immediately soothed, removing the scratchiness in the throat and silencing the cough.

                                                                                                                               27 March

Understandable

Practical Ethics & Profound Emptiness might just about be the way to go from here on. In the Buddhist shop window at Bras Basah Complex after the airline wild goose chase. On the Cathedral corner one stop back from the library an unconnected pair had gone in through the gates and one after the other up the stairs into the house of worship. Chinese and Indian. Passing the temperature test at the entry to the airline offices on Magazine Road was something perhaps. (Reminder: most cities and all major colonial outposts had old armouries sited by the river.) On the 7^th floor no personal contact was understandable; all the numbers tried by the door on the intercom finding people away from their desks ditto. There had been no expectation of anything better; the fraying was well underway. Ghost town throughout; it had been a simple matter crossing the major roadway in the heart of Chinatown against the red. In an imaginary street walk for a news service a queue on Havelock Road was guessed for the camera as toilet paper—turned out a café with take-out cups. In Australia as well as the beaches the liquor stores had been rushed; the more ruly segment of the population would find it hard to get by without their caffeine fix. (To say nothing of substances that cannot be mentioned here, which might perhaps in fact remain unaffected, if not actually trading more smoothly.) On the airline site that had finally been restored after days of blanks only the next 48 hour schedules showed. Understandably. Who at present was planning much longer than a couple of day ahead, serious hoarders aside. The library café peopled and the tables upstairs too, judging by the 1.5m separated queue at the doors. Registration and temperature testing could be managed at all civic hubs across a city-state of this kind. Was there a better haven in our contemporary moment than the library? You would bet sheep stations it would get as much patronage as any of the other notable faiths. How rapidly it had all collapsed though? An earthquake in Zagreb to add woe in that corner. Refugees, the poor and homeless might become more of a concern now because of the dangers to the rest of us; prisons had already come into calculations. Across the library forecourt sleek, slender legs briefly worked their old magic again, giving a little reminder at least of carefree days. The day before Ni had needed to be rebuffed. Through the morning it had been touch-and-go with the arrangements for meeting, the gal proving difficult to deny. After some misunderstanding however the guillotine came down THWACK. For younger lovers desire was no doubt unaffected by a virus. Apart from food and water supplies this place was well positioned; for a foreigner without health insurance and on a limited visa perhaps not so much. In the time ahead of course medical treatment anywhere outside China would be problematic—a deposit system for a non-cit. one would guess in this particular marketplace, say $5-10k. One needed to prioritise one’s own, naturally.

                                                                                                                     Monday 23 March