Singathology

by Gwee Li Sui

  Still blinded by the sun, Gene thought that he heard a familiar voice.

  “Gene,” Mrs. Tang said, her reed-thin voice choking back tears. “Please come home. We’re sorry we had kicked you out. We’ve now upgraded to a five-room HDB flat in Tampines. Let’s be a model family again, shall we?”

  The scales dropped from Gene’s eyes, fluttering gently to the ground. He recognised his family immediately. Eugene and Genette were as tall as him, complete with identical haircuts. They looked like they had already passed their PSLE. His parents still looked upwardly mobile and none the worse for wear.

  Gene, too, began tearing. This was nothing campaign taglines had prepared him for. There were no clever aphorisms to lean on, no consoling catchphrases to sum it up. How would he deal with this? To be deprived of food, shelter and education for seven years? To live from hand to mouth, day to day, for seven years? To now forgive his parents for these seven years of neglect?

  For a moment, Gene wanted to walk away. What words were enough for something as hard as this? What would the clever people who studied thick books, whose taglines had given him something resembling hope, have done? It took Gene a while to collect his thoughts. But finally…

  “Yes, Mum!”

  How Did the Cat Get So Fat?

  BY ZIZI AZAH

  Prologue

  One Sunday afternoon, Fatimah was bored at home as her father was still at work. Fatimah’s father worked as a security guard at her school, White Sands Primary. Even on a Sunday! There must be lots of secrets in the teachers’ office!

  It had been twenty-seven days since Fatimah’s mother called. Every time her mother called, Fatimah would note it on her AIA calendar with a little pink smiley. Every night before going to bed, Fatimah would take out the calendar from its place underneath her mattress and count the days between the smileys. The gaps seemed to get further apart, the smiles on the smileys more desolate.

  From her kitchen window, Fatimah noticed the plastic lion perched outside Uncle Muthu’s shop. Purple with a red mane, yellow stars spread across his torso, a beaming smile. The lion looked forlorn without anyone sitting on it. Being the kind girl that she was, Fatimah decided to keep the lion company. Skipping her way down the stairs, Fatimah narrowly missed the yellow stain dripping down the stairs. Waving and smiling at Uncle Muthu, Fatimah hoisted herself onto Mr. Minismen (that was her secret name for the lion) and dropped forty cents into Mr. Minismen’s side.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Minismen. I’ll keep you company today!” Mr. Minismen began to rock with the melody that was his roar. Fatimah hummed along although she didn’t understand the words. Fatimah giggled. How she enjoyed being on Mr. Minismen!

  All of a sudden, the shady trees and ixora bushes in front of her disappeared. Fatimah and Mr. Minismen were now wrapped in a swirl of red and white. Fatimah turned back to call out to Uncle Muthu, but he had disappeared as well! As did the ice cream fridge and the keropok stand.

  “Oh no! Mr. Minismen what’s happening?” Just as Fatimah uttered those words, the swirl of colour stopped. Fatimah now found herself in a small room. At the end of the room sat a woman.

  1. Justice in Democracy

  FATIMAH: Hi, kak… What are you doing here?

  WOMAN 1: Help.

  FATIMAH: Help?… Why are you crying?

  WOMAN 1: Only these tears can help me.

  FATIMAH: Why are you crying?

  WOMAN 1: I’m tired. There’s nothing you can do to help. Only these tears can help me.

  FATIMAH: I want to try. Please stop crying. Please tell me why you are crying.

  WOMAN 1: My child will never get to see the sun slipping behind grey clouds. She will never get to see the stars of Orion align themselves with Mecca.

  FATIMAH: Child?

  WOMAN 1: I was so sure that, when I told him, he would promise to marry me and the two of us would run away with this child. Run to that island that we always dreamed of. I believed in our love. This child is testament to our love.

  He said that he didn’t have enough and that his children needed money. He still loves his wife. Get rid of it, that was the last phrase he said to me. It’s so easy to say, but it stings. Get rid of it.

  Madam also said, just get rid of the child. This is not your country. This island is too small; there is no place for the child of a Bangla and an Indon. You yourself are an uninvited guest. You child will be lower than a ten-dollar prostitute.

  Madam gave me an ultimatum. Get rid of this child, and you can still work for me. I’m very kind. Anyone else would have sent you back.

  FATIMAH: Is your Madam really kind?

  WOMAN 1: Madam is sometimes kind. Sometimes… She allows me to eat rice twice a week. Bread is enough for you. Waste my money to give you rice every day.

  I sleep two hours a night. The oldest son, he likes to watch TV late at night. He calls me the human remote control. Maybe it is not only my child, but I myself am lower than a ten-dollar prostitute.

  One day, I heard Madam talking on the phone. The levy’s going up again. You’d better take an Indonesian one. Don’t have to give off. Wasted if she got off. My one good, want to go toilet also ask my permission. As with dogs, you have to show them who is the master. If not, you waste your money.

  FATIMAH: I don’t understand. Why don’t you just go back to your country?

  WOMAN 1: If I were to go home, it would take me nine years to pay off my debts. That is only with luck if it were just me, without my child.

  FATIMAH: Your parents, your family can’t help you?

  WOMAN 1: If I went home without money, with debts, with an illegitimate child, I wouldn’t have parents anymore. Only my tears can help me now.

  These tears are for me and my child. These tears protect us. These tears will save us. Maybe in the afterlife, my child will get to see the stars of Orion align themselves with Mecca.

  2. (Achieve) Progress

  FATIMAH: Mr. Minismen, where are we now? Just now we were in a small room; now we’re on a narrow road with no one in sight! Hey! A taxi! Oi! Taxi! Stop!

  MAN 1: Hi, little girl, you want a taxi?

  FATIMAH: I… I’m lost.

  MAN 1: Lost? How did you get here?

  FATIMAH: Mr. Minismen, my lion.

  MAN 1: Lion? What lion? What are you doing here alone?

  FATIMAH: My father was working, so I…

  MAN 1: Why you never go home? Wait the police will take down your name. Kids nowadays like to go out. So many kids I see day after day at East Coast. Walking from one end to the other. Their shoes worn from walking without a destination.

  Bored at home. Run. Bored because can’t buy an iPod, new games. Run. Bored at school. Run. Where to run to? This island is small. Everywhere is the same. Are you still in school?

  Good. Study Hard. Go to university. Become a doctor. Malay woman can become doctor. Every year, there will be one. You must try. Can. Study hard. Like my daughter. She studied so hard until she got a prize. Mendaki gave her an award. Zainal Abidin shook her hand and said, “Congratulations! You are the pride of the Malay community!”

  She got second place. That Indian Muslim girl was the one that got first place. It was her picture that came out in Berita Harian. In the end, my daughter chose engineering. People say easy to get a job. Female. Malay. Engineer. How many in a year?

  Now my daughter’s selling food at Bussorah Street. Shah’s Exotic Meditteranean Catering. Have you heard of it? She calls it catering. Just a food seller, I say. The easiest way for Malays to earn money is to sell food.

  You try lah, study hard. At least there’s one place for you. I just want my children to have a better life than me. But everything remains the same. Still trying to make ends meet. Halal food, selling food, yes, you can make money, but now there are so many halal catering companies, not all our people.

  I haven’t always driven a taxi, you know. I used to work as a manager; the previous boss was very good. He didn’t look at who you were. If you worked hard, he
would promote you. The new boss. Fresh out of university. Argued with the new boss. Twenty years I was with that company. He said the way I did my work was wrong. I thought, never mind, I can find another company.

  Last time my basic was at least three thousand. Now want to start engine only, heart pain. Now got so many taxi companies. So many colours. Don’t say three thousand, one thousand also cannot get. My daughter said, “Pa, never mind, I take care of you. You stop work.” My daughter, the food vendor.

  3. Regardless – A Diatribe

  EYE: Do you hear anything yet?

  EAR: No, not yet. Do you see anything?

  EYE: No, not yet.

  EAR: Not even a sliver of light?

  EYE: Don’t worry. It hasn’t been long since we got here.

  EAR: Not long? Fifty minutes, and the clock is tired.

  Pause.

  EAR: The pendulum swings deeper each time.

  EYE: It looks the same to me.

  EAR: You can’t hear the moan.

  EYE: The moan?

  EAR: Like that of an orphaned child who lost her parents to friendly fire.

  4. Prosperity

  FATIMAH: Oh, Mr. Minismen, what a beautiful kitchen! I’ve never been in a kitchen as big as this! Wow, look at all that fried chicken! The smell of garlic and chilli is so fragrant! I’m beginning to feel a little hungry. Cik, cik, what are you cooking?

  WOMAN 2: Sssh, I’m busy.

  FATIMAH: Sorry, cik, I’m just feeling a little hungry.

  WOMAN 2: What’s wrong with you girl? Can’t you see that I’m busy? My son will be hungry when he comes home from school. Hmmm… the rice is almost done.

  FATIMAH: There’s even rice! Looks like we can have lunch, Mr. Minismen. Ayah forgot to prepare breakfast just now. This makcik has gold bracelets up to her elbow, surely she will give us some food.

  WOMAN 2: Hmmm… not enough belacan garlic… chilli… where is it? Shrimp paste… kangkong.

  FATIMAH: Cik, cik, it smells so good; it surely must taste really good too! I’m so hungry I forgot to have breakfast this morning.

  WOMAN 2: What do I care if you haven’t eaten? My job is to cook delicious food for my husband, for my kids. Not for you. If you want to eat for free, go to the Buddhist temple lah. Hmmm… not enough garlic.

  FATIMAH: Wah, this makcik is really selfish. Can’t even help a little. If ayah were here, surely he would be angry, don’t you think so, Mr. Minismen? Cik! Why did you throw away the kangkong? It can still be eaten what! If its short of just a little garlic, nevermind lah. Cik…. cik!

  WOMAN 2: Garlic… chilli. What’s wrong with you, girl? Here I am trying to do this as fast as I can. What do you want? Can’t you see that I’m busy?

  FATIMAH: Why do you cook the kangkong and then throw it away?

  WOMAN 2: That’s my choice, I can do as I like. This kitchen has got a lot of food. It’s my choice if I want to throw away what I cook. My children deserve the most delicious, the best.

  FATIMAH: My father also wants the best for me, but this is wasting money.

  WOMAN 2: You don’t anyhow accuse me. I am never short of money. My husband is rich; he’s an executive! This kitchen is never short of food. Every Sunday, I go to Johor and top-up. I even save money.

  FATIMAH: Tidings and money are different, cik.

  WOMAN 2: How do you know? Who do you think you are?

  FATIMAH: I don’t think anything; I just want to help. My father says that food is to be shared. We cannot be calculative when it comes to food.

  WOMAN 2: So smart to answer back. Didn’t your mother teach you?

  FATIMAH: My mother…

  WOMAN 2: Go lah, go and ask your father to give you food. He’s so great, right?

  FATIMAH: No, its not ayah’s fault he forgets. He only forgets sometimes.

  WOMAN 2: I never forget. Go! Don’t disturb me! I want to cook!

  FATIMAH: What a snob this makcik is. Come let’s go, Mr. Minismen! A door? I wonder where this door goes? Maybe behind this door there’s some food? I’m really quite hungry.

  FATIMAH: Oh, just an apek.

  MAN 2: Hello… what do you want?

  FATIMAH: Sorry, apek, I just want to ask. I’m very hungry, I haven’t eaten the whole day. Do you have anything for me to eat? A bit also can.

  MAN 2: You hungry ah? So poor thing. Sorry, I don’t have much food at home.

  FATIMAH: Oh, never mind then.

  MAN 2: Oh, but I have some sugared biscuits, sorry. Can or not?

  FATIMAH: Can! Sugared biscuits are very delicious! My mum liked to buy them last time.

  MAN 2: Just take, eat as much as you want. Next week, when I get my pay, I can buy some more.

  FATIMAH: They are really delicious! Thanks!

  MAN 2: Eat, OK! If you don’t eat, you cannot become clever. Ah, listen to this, very good, Guangzhou musicians playing. You like opera?

  FATIMAH: I’ve never heard opera. My father listens to rock songs only.

  MAN 2: Opera is very good. I used to play the erhu at Botanic Gardens every Sunday. Many people came to watch.

  FATIMAH: Now?

  MAN 2: Now very difficult. Permit lah. Want to play at the MRT station also must pay. I’m too tired now. Working.

  FATIMAH: What do you work as?

  MAN 2: I’m a cleaner. One day got two shifts. One shift where got enough? Eight in the morning I sweep outside. The heat one kind. Until two. Four to ten at night I sweep inside.

  FATIMAH: Cleaner? Oh just like my mum! Where do you work?

  MAN 2: The big durian lor. They want the place to be as clean as a hospital. Difficult. This month not enough.

  FATIMAH: What’s not enough?

  MAN 2: PUB bill has gone up. Last month thirty-five, this month sixty-five. The same, never change. Everyday I work, come home late, leave home early. They anyhow put, I also never check.

  FATIMAH: Why don’t you try to go to the RC and meet the MP? He helped my father to get my schoolbooks and to pay school fees for me and my brother. At first, my mum was angry. She said that it was embarrassing to go meet the MP. Ayah said embarrassment didn’t matter if my brother and I couldn’t read. Just try lah.

  MAN 2: Last time I tried. Waited very long. In the end, the MP said, wait one month, and they will give the letter to explain why the bill went up. The MP said, the bill is always correct, never wrong. I waited and waited. The letter never came. So I just paid the bill. I see ah, if you rich, easy. If you clever to make money, easy. If you clever to make money for other people, even easier. Did you watch the Asian Games?

  FATIMAH: A little, my house has no TV, I watched with my brother at mak’s house. We won medals, right?

  MAN 2: We? Yes, we won. Now a lot of sportmen. Can play sports very well. But those people wearing our flag are not from here last time. One two years come here play sports, can get citizenship. My friend say, pay the money to get the pride.

  FATIMAH: Really? Well, at least we get to feel proud.

  MAN 2: Pay the money to get the pride. That’s why I say, if you clever to make money for the government, even easier. Everyone wants an easy life, correct or not?

  5. Regardless – A Diatribe

  “Hush the Dead are Dreaming” by Furniture plays throughout this scene.

  EYE: What do you think it sounds like?

  EAR: It sounds like pure white waves rolling gently onto white crystal sand.

  EYE: How can you be sure?

  EAR: Because that’s what it’s supposed to be. The diametric opposite of a moan.

  Pause.

  EAR: What do you think it looks like?

  EYE: I think… it looks like the perfect mushroom cloud drifting across a windless pale blue sky.

  EAR: A perfect mushroom cloud?

  EYE: A perfect mushroom cloud. A cloud that blocks out the sun and burns shadows into the pavement.

  EAR: Shadows?

  EYE: Shadows that remember forever.

  Pause.

  EAR: I’m tired
of waiting. Not doing anything.

  EYE: Be patient.

  EAR: You have to tell me when you see the first ray of light. Even if it’s a tiny glint.

  EYE: I will. Now hush… the dead are dreaming.

  6. Equality

  FATIMAH: Hey, Mr. Minismen, check this out! This kakak is wearing a white coat! Female doctor? Fisch… Fischer Scientific Laboratories… Oh, she’s not a doctor lah, one year only got one, that uncle is right. Kak… oh kak… hi! What are you doing?

  WOMAN 3: I am building a scale.

  FATIMAH: Wow! It’s so shiny! What did you use to make it?

  WOMAN 3: After many years of research, I have finally found two metals that are in equilibrium with each other. The best materials to make the perfect scale. Equilibrium.

  FATIMAH: Equi… equil… What does that word mean?

  WOMAN 3: Equilibrium means to be perfectly equal.

  FATIMAH: Why does the scale have to be perfectly equal?

  WOMAN 3: Because, when measuring, things have to be fair on all sides.

  FATIMAH: All sides? There are more than two sides?

  WOMAN 3: Of course! Officially, there are four.

  FATIMAH: Is it ready?

  WOMAN 3: Just a bit more. I just need to tighten this screw. Done!

  FATIMAH: Wow! It’s magnificent! What are you going to do with the scale now?

  WOMAN 3: Now my work really begins. I have to count out these small grains in perfect balance.

  FATIMAH: What are these grains?

  WOMAN 3: Not too sure. They just gave me these grains to count and balance them.

  FATIMAH: Can I help?

  WOMAN 3: Can, but you must count properly, OK? If I finish fast, surely they will praise me. OK, count in tens. One hundred on one plate.

  FATIMAH: Seventy, eighty, ninety… one hundred!

  WOMAN 3: Seventy… ninety… a hundred! A hundred on all four plates.

  FATIMAH: Is it balanced?

  WOMAN 3: Yes, look at the plates. They are all level. Oh no! The plate you filled is tilting down! Are you sure you counted correctly?