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.
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.
Storiies of the sixties?
ReplyDeleteseng hoy, thank you for your interest! in a later account, you will find out it was a yr or two before Jap occupation of Malaya. :))
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