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 Reflections
This is a short short
entitled REFLECTIONS written by Raymond Han in 1999.
All rights reserved:
no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
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otherwise without either the prior written permission of the authors or
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"Kai
Ming! Kai Ming!" cracked his mother's voice.
"Have
you finished pounding the chilli?"
She
finally appeared at the doorway to the kitchen, having given up
getting
a reply from Kai Ming.
"What
are you daydreaming about?" said she.
Kai
Ming was lost in his own world. as usual. His mind was still throwing up
the adventures
of the Famous Five in the Enid Blyton book "Five Go Adventuring Again"
which he had read the night before. How he longed to be in England, having
the adventure of his life. It was such fun, what with George,
Anne,
Julian, and Dick, not forgetting of course good old Tim, their pet
dog. Kai Ming wasn't lonely in
Singapore when he was with these guys.
Their
company kept him occupied most days when he wasn't outside playing.
It was the only world he liked, though it was only make- believe.
Fiction. But it didn't
matter to him. He was comfortable. He was
satisfied and at peace with himself. It was only when he had to put away the
book he was reading that he abruptly entered the mundane world again.
A slap on
his shoulder put an end to his daydreaming.
He was back in the real world again.
"Daydream!
All you know is daydreaming." barked his mother.
"I...I.."
was all Kai Ming could mutter.
Then his
mother stopped her racket.
"My,
my. What nice ground chilli you have done for me.
"I
do declare this must be the best you have pounded so far."
Kai Ming
had got used to his mother's whimsical mannerisms.
He washed
his hands and darted out of the kitchen into the living room.
Home to
him was a two-room HDB flat in Blk 107 in Queenstown, the earliest public
housing estate in the country. There was only one bedroom, into which
crowded the whole family at bedtime. The kitchen was a narrow short
passage, barely two metres in length, leading into the balcony where a long
bamboo blind shielded the occupants from the direct rays of the sun while
they were having their meals. Adjacent stood the toilet cum bathroom
- a narrow cubicle with a water urn for bath use and a squatting
pan at one end. The floor in the whole flat was all bare cement screed.
There was
no grille gate attached to the front doorway. A cane chair, a foldable table and
four stools dotted the spartan living room. Of course, there was the ubiquitous
altar cabinet on which stood a statue of the Goddess of Mercy which his
mother would talk to every morning, afternoon and night without fail.
He could
not understand how she could connect with the Goddess who was in another
dimension.
Day in and day out she would remind him to burn joss-sticks for the Goddess,
and day in and day out he would find ways and means to avoid doing it.
His
mother wanted him to talk to the Goddess. That wasn't the point. He was
afraid
she would answer him and he wasn't prepared for that situation, not
yet,
anyway. So it was with great reluctance that he had to burn joss-sticks to ask
the Goddess to bless Father and Mother and Big Sister and him. He had no
choice this time, his mother was standing behind him.
"Oh
well, better luck next time," he thought to himself.
The
family's only means of entertainment was a Rediffusion set blaring away
from
the wall
where it was perched. The Rediffusion radio service had kept
many a
household entertained then. Mandarin programmes were unheard of at the time. The
programmes which were broadcast were all in dialects. This service was one of
the few "luxuries" the typical Singapore household of the time
could
afford. Then, every boy wore singlets. There were no jeans, no T-shirts
and no
McDonald's to speak of. The few games played by youngsters were "cuti-cuti",
"five
stones", "hop-scotch", "goli" and "trading
cards".
This was
the Singapore in which Kai Ming spent his childhood. This boy was very independent.
He had no father to hover over him and control him because
his
father, being a sailor, was overseas most of the time. Kai Ming spent
much of
his free time outside the flat in the neighbourhood playing with his
peers. His elder sister was a cashier at the Jurong Drive-In Cinema, a novelty
at the time, having opened barely three months back. He had not been there
before but had heard from his sister how big the screen was. Every night
cars
would queue all the way from the front gate to the main road several
blocks away and
the movies were always sold out.
"Kai
Ming! Kai Ming!" his mother bellowed again. Her plump figure gave
backing
to her loud voice. She had been father and mother to him most of
his life
as his father was never around. But still she had carried out her duties
quite well. Kai Ming, though mischievous at times, never committed
big sins like stealing and smoking.
Kai Ming
poked his face into the kitchen.
"What
is it this time, mother?"
"Kai
Ming, tomorrow, we are visiting your Uncle Chiam. Do be on your best
behaviour
or I will give you some "kway teow" to eat when we get
back."
Of
course, by now Kai Ming was looking very squeamish indeed. He had
"eaten"
lots of
"kway teow" before and never once liked its taste. His legs
still
bore the cane marks left
behind during the last "meal". He scampered off at
once, out through the corridor, and up to the fifth storey landing
where his "kakees" were waiting for him.
"Why
are you late again?" asked Choon Huat.
"Eh,
eh.. I had to help my mother pound the chilli," came the reply.
"Aiya,
don't let's waste time any more, we have to be on the hill by ten
and we're
already late," cried Juk.
Choon
Huat and Juk were Kai Ming's best pals. The three of them were
neighbours and also
attended the same primary school- New Town Primary School- a
ten-minute walk away
from their block. But it was the school holidays and the school was closed.
Kai Ming
was the tallest of the three. His lanky legs provided most of
the
support for his thin frame of a body. He had well-pressed hair which smelled
of the Brylcreem he had applied. Just above his forehead, his hair trailed
off into a neat “curry puff” pattern. He wasn't much of a talker as he was
reserved and shy. Choon Huat was the exact opposite. His mouth was like a
machine gun-always shooting and never stopping. His bubbly, round
ace
seemed to match his equally bubbly legs. He also had a “curry puff”
hairstyle.
Juk was
the shortest of the trio. He had short straight hair. His cute adorable
looks
always managed to attract the attention of the Ah Sohs around the
neighbourhood.
They would come up to him and pinch his cheeks as if these
were
displayed for sale in a stall. Still, he wasn't ever mad with them.
In those
days, in the late sixties, children did not have much pocket
money.
Most families were poor and the three were no different. Between the three
of them, they only had fifteen cents. Still, it could get them some
ice balls to cool them down in the sweltering June heat. The walk
to the hill behind the block took half an hour. They had to meander
through a sandy path past an old cemetery and a temple to the top of
the hill. It was already 10.30 am. and the heat was almost unbearable.
The boys stopped under a tall Ficus tree and put down their things.
From there, they had a bird's eye view of the whole area. The Chip Bee
Estate nested just below their block which was built on the back of a
steep
slope. There were many "Ang Mohs" walking around down there.
Some
"Ang
Moh" children were playing on the road outside their terrace
houses.
Kai Ming
had heard from his mother that these people were families of the
British
soldiers stationed in the country to help protect it. Kai Ming
tried to
match the children's looks with the descriptions of British children
described
in Enid Blyton's books. How accurate these were. Enid Blyton was really
good in what she did.
"Kai
Ming! Kai Ming! Don't dream. We have lots to do!" exclaimed Juk.
Kai Ming
and Juk went off to look for some sticks while Choon Huat
unpacked
a long string and broken pieces of glass. He proceeded to
ground
the broken glass with a small rock he had found earlier. They were
going to coat the string with ground glass for the "layang"
they had made
yesterday. This "glass" string would help the boys to cut
other people's
"layang" strings and so "kill" other "layangs".
Once the "layang"
strings were cut, the "layangs" would fly off out of control
to the
heavens and never come back.
Soon, the
two boys returned with some sticks and stuck them into the
ground
near the tree but out in the sun. Juk took an empty tin can,
poured
some water into it, mixed in some tapioca flour and placed it over the
small fire Choon Huat had started. In went the ground glass.
Soon the mixture was boiling. Juk removed the can from the fire and set
it on the ground. When the mixture had cooled down somewhat, the boys used
some brushes to coat the mixture onto the string which they had laid
out, wrapped repeatedly across four sticks placed five metres apart.
When it was all done, the trio went off to the stream near by to catch
water snakes. Juk was the expert in the team. His father, Encik Abdullah,
had taught him the ropes. It wasn't long before he managed to bag one,
a three-foot long brown beauty. He placed it into a jute bag he had
with him and tied the bag.
"Mother
would love to barbecue the meat," Juk thought to himself.
Kai Ming
could only stare at him. Kai Ming was afraid of animals- big
or small-
ever since he was bitten by a monkey while sitting on a corner
stone bench outside a terrace house down by Chip Bee Road near by. The sun
was at its hottest, for it was noon. The threesome went back to the Ficus
and checked the string they had decked out. The glue had dried and it
was time to roll it up. Juk did the rolling, as usual. He was the
one who did most of the work all the time. Kai Ming liked to dither
and bubbly Choon Huat was lazy. But then, who could blame them that day,
for the heat was unbearable. Even the stray cats in the neighbourhood
were too lazy to prowl. These cats were stretched out along the
corridor areas, having their forty winks.
"Arhh!"
screamed Juk in pain.
He had
accidentally cut himself with the "glass" string and his right
index
finger bled. Quickly he put the finger into his mouth and sucked it
repeatedly. Choon Huat took out a plaster from his pocket and offered it to Juk
who gratefully slapped it on the affected finger. Kai Ming merely
stood and watched. He was afraid of blood and felt faint. Choon Huat took
over the packing up and then the three boys made their way down the hill,
past the rows of terrace houses where the "Ang Mohs" resided,
and through
an opening at Chip Bee Secondary School. On the other side of the school
was a path which led to the hawker centre. By the time the boys had
reached the hawker centre, they were very thirsty and famished indeed.
As they did not have much money between them, they settled for an ice
ball each. It was already past lunch time and their parents would be
worried sick. Though people were poor then, the family was all important
and children, especially the boys were treated as small emperors.
The ice
balls quenched the boys' thirst. They were pure heaven to them. But
they
melted all too quickly in the hot weather. In barely a few minutes
the ice
balls, which the boys had to use both hands to hold earlier, had been
reduced to a trickle of water. Still, it had the boys lapping it all up as
they trod back to their block across the road.
The three
boys reached their favourite spot- the landing on the fifth
storey and hovered there for some time. They were hungry. Still they
hated to go home. It was lonely at home. All three had no brothers
to play
with, only elder sisters to nag at them. It was while they were stretched
out with their butts on the floor and their backs against the wall that
Kirpal Singh happened to pass by. He was almost fourteen whilst
the trio were only eleven even. He was also a bully and they all hated
him. Standing at 1.68 metres, he was a head taller than Kai Ming, the timid
one.
"What's
in that bag?" Kirpal roared.
"None
of your business," retorted Juk.
"This
whole block is my territory and everything that happens here is my
business."
"Says
Who?"
"Says
this fist of mine."
This story is continued HERE.
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