The Pork Seller

The sun is setting and the long shadows of the rubber trees that lined both sides of the metalled road gave shade that he no longer needed.  He must be turning back, or else he would reached home past midnight. Sang pressed the dynamo against the front wheel and prepared for his journey back.  He would have to pedal faster because  the distance to his wooden hut  had become further.  Fortunately, the load in the basket at the back had grown lighter.  Little was left of the pig he bought from the abbatoir this morning.  He kept a pig's leg for his family.  He was quite happy at the day's sale, although he had to cycle to almost a dozen small villages  and altogether he must have cycled more than forty miles that day.
He learnt a lot from the first attempt.  He learnt that some villages would be better off if avoided because the villagers could not afford and he would not  accept any form of credit. The people who could afford were those small traders in the shops, small plantation holders or the Chinese auntie whose husband was a government servant.  He was confident he could do better if he kept on sweet talking  the housewives who bought from him.

He must had raced through acres and acres of rubber plantations, and as the miles and miles of metalled road went under the bicycle's wheels, he felt better because he knew soon it would be his home in sight. Alas, he saw the light from the kerosene lamp shining through the front window of a familiar looking hut ahead. He could see the silhouette of his wife's slim figure moving towards the front door.  He saw the puzzled expression on her face.  He muttered to her about something in the basket and she went to the bicycle to find out.  She found the empty lunch box and the pig's leg wrapped in newspaper.  She emptied the basket of the remaining strings and newspapers, and brought them into the house. Then, she went out again to push in the bicycle for she did not want it to be stolen.  Now, she understood why her husband had not been back since dawn. 
She prepared a warm water bath while her husband sat to rest his legs.  She could see that her husband took a long time to be seated.  What had happened?  Did you hurt your bones? Why are you so stiff?  Cycling for more than twenty miles?  Why?  To finish selling the pork?Why don't you start with half a pig first?  You better not go tomorrow.  Business will taken by others?
They whispered as they exchanged the day's news.  The two younger boys and the older lady were fast asleep.  As Sang bathed, his wife diligently salted the pork and steamed it for the next day's cooking.  Sang wanted her to cook braised pig 's trotter.  His wife poured him a small cup of Chinese rice wine.  It would help his blood circulation and alleviate his body aches and pains.  Before going to sleep, his wife massaged his legs with ointment because he could not squat all the way down to pass motion.  He had to squat half way down.  He had to take a rest the next day! No doubt about it, he muttered under his breath as his wife rubbed the ointment hard on to his calf muscles.

Where there's a Will, There's a Way

The wooden bed was harder than usual that night.  He had not felt it that way before.  He  could not sleep because his mind was continuously thinking of all the different ways in which he  could rake in some money to feed his mother, two younger brothers and a young wife.  The warmth of his wife's body against his had been therapeutic last night because at the break of morning , he seemed to be replenished with a new zest of life.  He had told his wife to cook some food for him to bring on a long journey.
He set off on his bicycle and with his lunch box, breathing nothing to his mother.  He had just told his wife vaguely that he would be off to start a new business and would be back as soon as possible. 
As he cycled to the slaughter house, thoughts of doubt and uncertainty raced across his mind. What if I could not even finish selling  half of the pig?  What am I to do with the unsold pork?  What if, and before his mind tries to drag him back and slacken his pace, he heard a familiar voice shouting his name.  "Sang, how about today again at you know where?"
"Sorry, no.  I have something to do.  Important,seriously!" He was surprised at his own answer.
He had to start something.  He had to earn to keep the family together. The thought of his mother remarrying and of all the men,that Uncle Kong, nauseates him a great deal. No, I must not let it happen.  He bit his lips hard as he forced himself quickly towards the slaughter house.
The man at the abbatoir was ready to hand over his order.  A fairly good sized pig.  Not too fat and a good amount of lean meat.  That would make an easier sale, he thought.
He cycled off to get some strings at the wet market and asked the shopkeeper to give him some newspapers for free. The shopkeeper was kind because he knew Sang was a first timer as he had never seen him before. What a good start for the day, Sang thought.
That boosted his confidence and he cycled bravely towards a Chinese village not very far away.  He cycled fast because he wanted to be the first pork seller there that morning.

A New Wife, A Heavier Shoulder

His mother despised the way he had lost his hard earned money at the gambling dens.  Hoping to strike it rich, instead he landed himself in an even deeper rut, never able to jump out of it.  Utterly sickened by her son's insensitivity to the hardship the rest of the family was going through, she wailed as she lamented on her fate.  Widowed at the age of just over forty-five, she had hoped her twenty- seven year old son would take charge of the family now, after getting him  married recently to a young girl from her homeland in Guangzhou.

On seeing that there was no reply from the son except for a grunt as he laid there on the hard bed dozing off, she resorted to her 'lethal  weaponry', definitely effective as assured by her closest of friends.  Her new daughter-in-law was away in the kitchen to get warm water  to  clean her husband's feet.  Quickly, she blurted  out what was in her mind all that day.  "Sang, if you think that taking care of this family is such a big deal, I will just have to think of another way.  Uncle Kong had had on many occasions  extended his help and wanted me to join his family.  He needed a woman to take care of his family after Auntie Kong left this world  last year. He is still waiting for my answer."

It was  complete silence for a while. Even the kitchen was as quiet as a cemetery.  Sang's wife must have heard all that had been transpired and must have been too shocked or stunned for she did not come out with the warm water.  Then, the once motionless body stirred, tossed violently to the right and then to the left, as if showing his indignance to what his mother had just said.  Suddenly, there was a loud growl which made everyone jumped.  Ah Ong, Sang's youngest seven year old brother, cried as he knew something bad was going to happen.  It was the first time he saw his much adored brother acting this way.  "Why, why are you acting like that? Are you mad?"  scolded the elderly lady as she pacified her  youngest son.  "Look what you have done to your little brother!"


The body on the hard wooden bed laid still again. There was no more sound.  As the hour was quite late, his mother retired to her own bedroom, coaxing the younger boy to stop crying and promising him something the next day.  The young wife came out after the commotion died down, pretending not to have heard anything.  After wiping her husband's feet clean, she too climbed up on to the wooden bed to sleep beside him.  Soon, there was almost complete silence in the hut except for the smacking sound from the geckos and the distant songs of the frogs.