Big Mole

by Ming Cher

  Instead, the General welcomed him exuberantly. “Hey, Kwang! Good to see you!” He beamed and waved at Kwang from his spot on the couch.

  “You too, Hong. Ah, where is Big Mole?”

  “Not sure. Come inside for a coffee first, Kwang.”

  “What you mean by ‘not sure’? You don’t know where your girlfriend is?” Kwang looked sideways at Quiet One, who sat on the General’s 50cc parked behind the counter.

  “They are splitting up,” Quiet One said.

  Kwang took out his Camel cigarettes and stuck one between his lips. His fingers shook slightly. “Why, what happen?”

  Quiet One struck a match to give Kwang a light, and pulled out a stool from behind the counter for him to sit on. He let the General explain how he had ended up in the shop that night and sprained his ankle.

  “She rather listen to you than me,” the General said hopefully. “Besides, need to concentrate on Koon Thong.”

  “What about Sachee?” Kwang asked. “Has he said anything yet?”

  “Sachee doesn’t know. He is away in Malaya, don’t know how long. Hey, you in a hurry to go anywhere else?”

  “What’s the time now?”

  “Quarter to nine.”

  “Still have a few hours to spare.”

  “I am sure she be back soon,” the General said. “Why not wait inside her house? Use my key.”

  Kwang didn’t want the responsibility that came with keeping the General’s house key. “No, you keep your key,” he said as he stood up from his stool. “I try to find her tomorrow. See you later ah?”

  “Okay, see you later,” the General said, waving as Kwang walked away into the pouring rain.

  •

  At 9pm, Big Mole exited the Roxy Cinema in Katong, her movie having just finished. It was still pouring, and she ran for cover like everybody else, from the cinema to the nearby three-storey shopping mall. Although she was familiar with the cinemas in the area, she had never been inside this classy mall before. It was fully air-conditioned, and she shivered a bit in her wet clothes. She felt uneasy; all around her were upper-class Chinese talking to each other in English, which made her feel out of place. She typically bought all her things from market stalls whose owners bargained in dialect.

  Still, she needed someplace to wait for the rain to stop. She browsed the shops, and after passing by a classical record store on the second floor, she heard a passage from Mozart’s The Magic Flute drifting out to her. She stopped abruptly, carried away by an overwhelming feeling of joy, although she had never heard classical European music before. She stayed there, absorbing those dreamy melodies of Mozart, until the shop assistant changed the record for an inquiring customer.

  Next to the record store was a bridal shop and boutique; she looked through the display window and imagined herself wearing a wedding dress, with Kwang next to her as her bridegroom. Also in the window was a chic sales assistant in a revealing low-cut dress and high heels, dressing up a mannequin in a pastel sundress with deep side pockets. The woman stood back and folded her arms, examining the dummy carefully, as if she were not quite sure about something. Her bright red lipstick made her thin lips looks full, and her make-up looked classy and natural, not cheap or naughty. She wore a pair of dangling light green jade earrings framed with white gold and small sparkling diamonds.

  The sales assistant then saw Big Mole watching from outside, and waved at her to come into the shop, as though she had something exciting for her. There is no harm in going inside, Big Mole told herself, even though she felt inferior in such a classy place. Go inside for fun. You don’t have to buy anything. She stepped into the shop with her nose turned up slightly, to help maintain her air of dignity and self-esteem.

  “Hello,” the sales assistant greeted Big Mole in English, and gestured at the pastel sun dress; a green jade bangle hung from her wrist. “Would you like to try it on?”

  “I don’t know what you mean—I can’t speak English,” Big Mole replied in Cantonese.

  “Oh, sorry, I can’t speak Cantonese,” the sales assistant apologised in broken Hokkien. “My parents are Hokkien Babas. We speak Malay and English at home.”

  Big Mole could speak in many Chinese dialects, as well as Malay, which she had picked up during her years of living in the kampong. “We can talk in Malay,” she said fluently.

  “Would you like to try this dress on?” the woman replied in Malay and gestured at the pastel sun dress. “I really think it would look so beautiful on you.”

  Big Mole was flattered by what she had said, and indeed wanted to try it on. “I am not buying it,” she said. “I am just looking. Is that okay?”

  “Oh yes, definitely,” the woman explained. “Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to sell you anything. This sundress is for display only, not for sale. But I really think it would look beautiful on you, and I’d like to see you in it. Please try it on.”

  The persuasive word “please” boosted Big Mole’s self-esteem. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am sure.” The sales assistant removed the sundress from the mannequin and introduced herself with a hand on her chest. “My friends call me Jade,” she said in a bubbly manner, “because I love jade. I am a photographer and fashion designer; an artist, if you like. What should I call you?”

  “Just call me Dai Lup Mak.” The Cantonese translation for “big mole” was her English name on her identity card. “Where is your changing room, by the way?”

  “Oh, I love your name. It sounds like Djalima in Sanskrit. I will call you Djalima!” Big Mole smiled at the new nickname, and followed the woman to the changing room at the far corner of the shop, behind the racks of clothes. The room was panelled with sandalwood, giving it a pungent smell that made Big Mole feel good. She undressed herself in front of the full-length mirror, and examined herself; she didn’t have one at home. When she put on the pastel sundress and dipped her hands into the pockets, she couldn’t stop swinging around and grinning. Her wavy dark hair just touched her bare shoulders, and she thought about what she could wear for her ears and around her neck to match the dress. She felt very girlish, and went on tiptoe to imagine how she might look in high heels.

  Big Mole walked out of the changing room. “Well,” she said, twirling around in the dress, “what do you think?”

  “Oh, I can’t believe my eyes!” Jade rubbed her hands together and blinked quickly. “This is amazing, Djalima. You are the perfect model for my sundress. You look so beautiful, Djalima!”

  Big Mole liked how she looked in the dress, but felt that Jade might be overreacting. “Really?” she asked, suddenly shy. “Are you sure?”

  Jade leant backwards with both hands on the edge of the shop’s counter so that she could get a better look at Big Mole, and asked, “Could I take some photos of you in my dress? I would pay you for it, of course.”

  “What? Why?” Big Mole exclaimed quietly.

  “As I said, I am a fashion designer, a photographer, also an artist. I use models to promote my brand in fashion magazines. Will you model for me? I can pay you quite well.”

  Big Mole knew nothing about models or trends or fashion magazines, but now felt silly for not realising earlier that Jade was the owner of the shop, rather than just a sales assistant. “Model for you? Er…for how much?”

  “$100 an hour for the photo session. Is that good enough?”

  “So much! You mean with this dress?”

  “Yes, as well as some other different outfits.”

  “How long would the whole photo session be?”

  “About two hours, so $200.”

  “Where are you going to take my photos?”

  “Here, in my boutique, for the first two sessions. And that is only the beginning.”

  Big Mole mentally calculated that two sessions would add up to $400. It would take her about two months to earn that kind of money in her pet fish shop. She couldn’t believe her luck, and momentarily thought that Jade might be trying to con her out of s
omething; she knew she could use Sachee and the backdoor rats to make Jade regret it if so, before remembering that they were all now on a train to Malaya. The new independent her, the same voice that had told her to enter the store in the first place, told her to go for it, as the risk was far less than the others she had taken during her life.

  “We can have our first session tomorrow, if you like,” Jade said candidly. “There will be even more surprises tomorrow, Djalima. Can you come at 2pm?”

  “Okay lah,” Big Mole said with a smile. She returned to the changing room to put on her batik frock, and came out to hand the sundress back to Jade.

  “The pictures of you in the clothing I design could end up here.” Jade pointed at a popular Hong Kong magazine featuring photos of herself along with two famous Chinese actresses.

  “That’s Lin Dai and Gar Lan!” Big Mole said with disbelief. “They are my favourite actresses. Where did you meet them?”

  “I know them very well,” Jade said. “I paid them to wear my designer clothing. I use film stars in Hong Kong to promote my labels for local and international markets in Europe and America. Most of my clothing business is actually based in Hong Kong, not Singapore.”

  As a shop owner herself, Big Mole felt that she was also a sharp businesswoman, although Jade was in another category altogether. “So you will use me to advertise your designs—is that how it works?”

  “That’s right!”

  “Our worlds are very different,” Big Mole said. “Have you been to Europe and America?”

  “Oh yes, travelling overseas is part of my business. I have seen Paris, Milan and New York. I graduated from London with a degree in fashion design, and lived on Greek Street for five years. I have a Master’s in Art History from Cambridge.”

  “Wow,” Big Mole quietly exclaimed. “Do you meet all those famous Hong Kong film stars often?”

  “Of course, that’s part of my job. Hong Kong has become the leading producer of garments in the world. My clothing company is called Combine Enterprise.” She handed Big Mole her business card and said, “Say, where do you live, Djalima? I can give you a lift home.”

  Big Mole put the glossy business card into the pocket of her batik frock, her cheeks burning slightly at the fact that she could not read it. “I live inside the Malay kampong in Geylang, but cars are not allowed inside.”

  “I know that kampong,” Jade said. “No wonder your Malay is so good! I can drop you outside. Can you wait for a little while for my manager to come before we go? She is actually my ex-teacher from Raffles Girls’ School! What about you Djalima—are you from a Chinese school or…?”

  “I am from Indonesia. I grew up in Chinatown,” Big Mole said, eliding her background on the streets. She did not want to scare Jade away.

  “No wonder, you don’t look Chinese. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one,” Big Mole replied, glancing at the diamond ring on Jade’s fourth finger. “What about you? Are you married?”

  Jade followed the glance and laughed. “Oh, no, my ring doesn’t mean anything like that. I wear it to stop men from getting the wrong idea. I have no time for men. My business comes first, although I do have a few boyfriends for fun, sometimes.”

  “Then I will call you Butterfly Jade,” Big Mole joked, sharing her naughty side with a fellow woman for the first time.

  “Don’t call me that at my parties!” Jade said and laughed again. “I like to organise parties for my friends; it’s part of my business in the ‘rag trade’.”

  “Do they all talk in English at your parties?”

  “Yes, in Singapore people speak English at parties, but not in Hong Kong. Hong Kong is like our Chinatown—everyone speaks Cantonese.”

  “That will suit me fine,” Big Mole said.

  Just then, an elegantly dressed woman in her early forties, clad in a brocade cheongsam and high heels, rushed into the shop with a leather folder under her arm. “I know I’m late, Jade!” she apologised in English. “You should have seen the floods tonight. I had to make a long detour on Mountbatten Road to get here.”

  “This is Djalima, Aunty Tan,” Jade said in Malay. “Djalima, Aunty Tan is my shop manager. Djalima will be here for a photo session at 2pm tomorrow. I am going to give her a lift home now.”

  “I look forward to that, Djalima,” the elegant manager said in fluent Malay. “You must let me take you out for lunch sometime. See you tomorrow!”

  Big Mole was very impressed by Jade’s green two-seater MG sports car. It was Big Mole’s first time in a private car. After they had driven out from the shop owners’ car park in the shopping mall, she asked Jade, “Where do you live?”

  “I live on Seaview Road,” Jade replied. “My address is on the business card I gave you. It used to be my parents’ house. I bought it from them when they decided to live with my older brother and his wife, who are both doctors, and their children. Are you still living with your parents?”

  “No, they are in Indonesia,” Big Mole said, not ready to reveal that she’d been an orphan since she was four years old.

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I breed pet fish and sell them.” Big Mole avoided giving Jade the address of her pet fish shop. She was planning to wait and see what her modelling sessions would be like the next day; if they went well, she might not need the shop any more.

  It didn’t take them long to arrive at the main road outside the Malay kampong, which was still flooded with over two feet of water from the heavy rain that had just stopped.

  “How will you get back to your house, Djalima?” Jade asked with some concern.

  “Don’t worry, I have done this many times. See you tomorrow at 2pm!” Big Mole stepped down from Jade’s sports car and lifted up the hem of her batik frock to wade barefoot through the water, carrying her rubber sandals in her hand. The rain had stopped, but clouds still filled the dark sky, and there was no moonlight. She used the flickering light from the kerosene lamps in the other stilt houses to guide herself to her house. She wondered on the way whether the plastic container she had buried under her house would have floated up due to the flooding, and whether it had been found by the General, since he usually checked the chicken platform under the house when it flooded.

  The kerosene lamp was still burning inside her house, so she thought the General might be waiting for her. Her worst fear was that, if he had found the plastic container, he would know she was the one who had taken his khaki bag, and might be angry enough to hurt or even kill her. She looked around at the floating debris and grabbed a piece of driftwood about two feet long for protection. She tiptoed up the steps, opened the front door and yelled out, “Hey Hong!” She clutched the driftwood tightly.

  When there was no response, she yelled out again: “Hey Hong! Are you deaf?” She was certain he was inside, because the kerosene light should have been turned off if nobody was at home, to prevent a fire in the wooden house. She suspected he was hiding, waiting to jump out and get her. Although she was frightened, she sneaked into the kitchen to grab a meat cleaver as well, then went and checked every room. Nobody was there. She went under the house with the kerosene lamp to check the stout stick she had used to mark where she had buried the valuable plastic container. The stick was still there, and her six hens were roosting at the platform, staring at her, making her feel stupid. She laughed at herself and realised that the General probably had too many things on his mind and had forgotten to turn off the kerosene lamp before he went out.

  6

  Be Free, Be Yourself

  The next morning, Wednesday, it was sunny again. The floodwaters had subsided. Muddy wet smells floated through the humid air of the Malay kampong as the sun rose and the cocks crowed. Big Mole woke and yawned, exhausted from lack of sleep after having been kept awake by the excitement of the previous night. She set her alarm clock for 10am, to get a little more sleep before her modelling appointment, and closed her eyes. When she woke again, her mind felt much clearer. At 1pm, she
set off for the shopping mall in Katong.

  When she arrived at the second floor of the mall, the elegant manager, Aunty Tan, was already waiting anxiously for her. “Hey hey, Djalima!” She waved at Big Mole and gave her a welcoming hug. “We are all very excited. Jade is here with her team; we will close the shop for a few hours just for you.”

  Coming from a male-dominated world, Big Mole had never been hugged by any women, and it was a totally new experience for her. “I don’t really know what I am doing here, Aunty Tan,” she addressed her respectfully, thankful for the warm treatment.

  “Jade will know.” The elegant manger held Big Mole by the arm lightly as they walked together. “I am just pleased that you are here. Jade has told me that your kampong was flooded last night. We were not sure if you would be able to come today.”

  Big Mole felt it quite strange to be held so closely by the elegant manager, who was walking on high heels in her blue satin cheongsam. “How long have you been working for Jade?” she asked. “I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Not at all. I am glad you asked,” Aunty Tan replied. “This is my fifth year with Jade. Our first boutique was in Tanglin, the second on Orchard Road; our third is here. People know about us mostly by word of mouth. You will make a big difference for us, Djalima.” They reached Jade’s boutique; the shop window’s curtains were closed, and when Aunty Tan opened the door, Big Mole was greeted by explosive camera flashes.

  “Sorry about that, Djalima,” Jade apologised with a smile. “I told you I would surprise you, didn’t I?”

  “You know how to make fun of me. Is that what I am being paid for?” Big Mole joked back, and was rewarded with a few more shots from the cameras by three other women around Jade’s age.

  “We were all classmates at Raffles Girls’ School,” Jade said, and they introduced themselves.

  “I’m a hairdresser,” said the first one. “My salon is on Orchard Road.”

  “I’m a dressmaker,” said the second one. “My shop is in Tanglin.”