Memories of Caldecott Hill: Senior stories Allan Ng

Wonders

By Dr. Allan Ng, Y.H.

The plane dived down from clear, blue skies, like a Falcon plummeting down onto its prey in a vertical drop at speeds of 150 mph. I felt the load as the G forces built up and my surroundings appeared dim. I sensed I was blacking out. Objects appeared upside down, in topsy, turvey, curvy way, and I wasn’t sure of my bearings anymore. I saw ball bearings everywhere.Then things brightened as the plane levelled out and swooped down, landing on the tarmac, like a falcon landing on it’s prey. The passengers cheered as metal staircases rolled towards the plane. The passengers disembarked rapidly down a steep, steel staircase.

The first thing to hit me was the heat, as a wave of hot air wafted towards me. The first sniff of a Singapore. I had left ten years ago, for destinations, strange, and exhilarating in my ambitious climb upwards, But then I was heading for unknown skies. Doctor if I succeeded, and porter, if I failed, Now, a piece of paper, a certificate, and a small suitcase accompanied me. Nothing else, except that pack of ambitions of course. And that whiff of decaying vegetation, so reminiscent of decomposition and death, for which I was ill prepared.

I followed the group along a narrow track snaking its way along several huts and a ware house which we entered. Several customs and immigration officials, in grey and blue uniforms inspected us and moved us into a large hall. I could see my fellow passengers, greeted by relatives and friends. They were smiling and laughing but there was no one to greet me. A feeling of isolation and desolation swarmed over me. I could not shake it off. I trudged on with my meagre belongings and outside the hall, a sea of beaming faces greeted me. My spirits soared, only to be dashed by the realisation that they were over friendly taxi drivers hoping to make a killing. Reluctantly I let one of them grab my bag and hustle me into his taxi, an ancient rainbow coloured Austin, with numerous scratches and dabs of faded paint, covering dented metal. We bumped along a long seafront of attap huts and coconut trees. Beyond lay a tempestuous sea, given to storms of rage. But it was tranquil now, in tune with my weary spirits. We honked into maze of narrow streets, lined by crowded, terraced shops selling hardware, pots and pans, and hawkers’ food from small stalls squeezed into nooks and corners.

I paid the fare and tipped taxi driver who dropped me at the gates of a muddy green building, some six stories high, shaped like a banana, held aloft by two thick stems, fronted by a U shaped tarmac driveway, with a scatter of pebbles, near the main entrance.

Wearily, I climbed up the four steps into the vestibule, where several patients were groaning on stretches, and a handful of nurses were attending to them, cooing and encouraging them to stay calm, while giving injections and setting up drips. They took no notice of me.

“What are you doing here?” The voice was raspy, like when you rub sandpaper on wood and came from an elderly lady in a white starched uniform. She had just dropped from the adjacent corridor and was glaring at me.

“I am the new Medical Officer. Where do I put my suitcase?”

“Over there, in the corner. Come and follow me.”

“But I don’t start until next week!”

“This week, next week, what’s the difference? Come.” I followed meekly, up another staircase, skirting an antiquated lift with collapsible chain doors, into a room, where a surgeon, garbed in green, was peering down the perineum of a Malay woman with a bloated abdomen. She was rolling in agony and shouting “Sakit, sakit! (Malay for pain.)”

The blonde doctor shouted in disgust, “Suck it yourself!” He peeled his gloves off, and walked away. But the nurse, a buxom, young lady managed to pacify him, by telling him of the misinterpretation, and that there many other things people could suck, since we re all born suckers anyway. He put his gloves on again, while staring at her in surprise and then at her breasts, held taught within that tight, green tunic. While this fracas was going on, I delivered the baby by way of a breech extraction. The blonde doctor took the baby from me and smacked its bottom. The baby cried and he kissed the baby’s cheek, before handing it to a grinning mother.

“Name’s Michael Higgins,” he growled at me. “Thanks buddy.” He swept the blonde curls away from his blue eyes. “By golly, what a sucker i am.”

A dapper little man, who had watched the proceedings from just outside the door, dashed in and pumped my hand. “Thank you, Doc. You saved my son. Would you like to join me for a celebratory dinner at Fatty’s Pot Belly, down by Rochor River?”

“But that’s a notorious gambling den!” My grip on my wallet tightened. I was down to my last ten dollars and dad had warned me that they would skin me alive, if I ever walked in there. “Stay away. I’ll be down from Penang Island in a few days, after we complete filling the last order for steel bars. Meanwhile, bunk up at your sister’s apartment in River Valley Road.” He rung off as fast as he had chimed in.

The dapper man put his arm round my shoulder. “I’m Malik. You never worry when you are in Malik’s company. There will be a bit of that girly stuff, but it’s quite harmless. And some gambling, such as Mah Jong, and Chap Ji Ki, in those exotic opium dens. Of course, how could i not mention this! Some cock fighting shows too, where you could bet your grandmother’s bottom against a king’s ransom. Make sure you don’t lose.“ He winked. “Or there will be a real cock slaughter show.”

‘It’s too far to walk and there won’t be any taxis in the dead of night.” It was my last, desperate attempt to avoid trouble. But he soothed them away. “Use my limousine. Ahmad is a good driver of my blue Rolls. He will guard you well.”

I sighed and nodded. I was hungry and Fatty’s had good food. Little did I know that it would turn out to be the Night of the 21 knives.

Faty’s was Faty’s. There was no other way to describe that exhilaration concoction of Asian juices. You could take it lying down or sitting up. In one puff, one snort or two. You always came back for more. The yearning kills you. But you press on, hoping for release from the yoke which binds you to Hell. Drums boomed in rhythm with hoarse, battle-cries. Members of the two most powerful gangs, the 21 knives and the 8 rings, had gathered outside Fatty’s, on the wide asphalts of Rochor.

It was a beautiful night. Stars twinkled and the moon shone. Music flowed from the rag bag orchestra of mouth organs, accordions, and the old, indomitable piano, squatting just within the wide, teak doors. The music was a mixture of rhythmic Rong Geng dance tunes and romantic, cowboy songs, belted out by old Faty himself, seated on a wide, wooden stool. On his right stood Chow Mia, the boss of notorious 8 rings, a conglomerate of vicious killers with powers of the the occult. He was tall man with a stoop, a disarming smile, and a vicious knife, He sang lustily, of love and life, fulfilled and lost, as he grabbed the bevy of women around him. He dance in little mincing steps, his face contorting like that of a clown, in a cadence of sudden, changing moods.

On Faty’s left, Malik, portly and dapper, laughed and tried to mimic Chow Mia, as he announced

“Tonight is a memorable night, a night to remember long after we are gone. Tonight, I announce that the great truce between our 21 knives and the 8 Rings and the birth of a handsome son, with the features of Chow Mia of course.” Laughter erupted from some men in the audience, but Malik continued. “He has consented to be the god father of my son. It is indeed a great honour for me.” Malik bowed and the throng clapped. “There is food a plenty, wild boar, black pig, roasted piglets,

Peking duck, wild geese, and century eggs, of course. And plenty of beautiful women. “Eat, drink, and be merry. Enjoy. To ensure the peace continues tonight, we have agreed to surrender all weapons for safe keeping at the welcoming stations, where we have stationed guards from both gangs.”

Meanwhile a stream of dignitaries arrived in black limousines. Both gangsters greeted them graciously. Amidst the great din, a flash of streaked lightning ignited the sky, followed by a clap of thunder. An eerie silence descended on the crowd. A woman screamed. Her voice pierced the night air. I could feel the fear in it as it warbled. The crowd stampeded towards the doors. But Faty’s piano had been pushed and was now blocking the exit. More screams erupted. Shots erupted, followed by fusillades of rifle fire.I looked around but Malik and his cronies were nowhere to be seen. A body lay on the the piano. I rolled it over. Chow Mia stared at me through glassy eyes.

I grasped his limp wrist and tried to feel for a pulse. None! I shuffled out with the crowd, which was dwindling fast. A blue Rolls crept up beside me and I peered through the darkened window panes. Dark shadows greeted me and I couldn’t see who was within. The passenger window rolled down and Malik appeared. “Jump in, unless you want to take a bullet.” I climbed in and the window pane rolled up. Malik looked at my pale face, dripping in sweat. “Bullet proof glass,” he reassured me. ‘And in case you think badly of me, I did not engineer this. But Chow Mia’s gang will think I did, and they will start a vicious, no-holds-barred war against me. Many will die unnecessarily and the police will increase their presence and use trumped-up charges against us because of public pressure. The massacre this night will be plastered all over the newspapers.” He paused for awhile to let this sink in. But I was too shell-shocked to care. He lifted my chin gently. “Listen carefully. Your life may depend on this.

Tonight’s massacre was started by Long Long, Chow Mia’s top lieutenant. With me and Chow Mia eliminated, he will be the top gun. You must contact Bo Tak, another henchman of Chow Mia. He. has the numbers and ability to carry this through. Tell him that if he gets rid of Long Long, he and I could a very successful, long-term symbiotic relationship, I have watched him and he has always wanted peace, like me.”

I protested “But I don’t know him! He won’t listen to me. He might even kill me!”

“Today, You have a made good friend, Michael Higgins. He is the brother-in-law of Bo Tak. Send the message through him. But, remember, do not get the names mixed or we will all be fucked!”

I nodded. How could I forget Michael Higgins? I crept into my bed and promptly fell asleep. I had fitful dreams that night of dragons and monsters taking nips of my flesh. It was incredibly painful,

But nothing compared with the hollowness inside. It was as if the monsters had eaten me inside out.

I met Michael the next morning at coffee break, after we had delivered several patients.

“Hi, had a good night?”

He nodded. “Wonderful, if you have done several C-Sections.”

I laughed and he continued. “The work never ends.”

“Yup. We are hyper-productive.”

“I need a favour from you.”

“Sure, buddy, shoot.”

“Can I swap duties with you tomorrow night?”

My heart rose and sank. I could be killed by Bo Tak or Malik or both. “You’ve got it. But I need a favour in return. For this, I need to talk to you privately.”

We walked into the small, empty green.

“I know it’s sounds ridiculous, but even now, i am not sure if it’s real. Can you pass this message to Bo Tak urgently? It’s from Malik. It’s verbal and I’ll speak as if I am Malik.

“Long Long planned to kill me last night and started the gang fight. He harbours extreme paranoid suspicions. You, his next in command, will be next. The police will be conducting incessant raids. This will kill us all. But we can have a happy, symbiotic life. Join forces with me and and eliminate Long Long, but we must act fast.”

Michael blinked several times. “Ok, I’ll do it. But, if you are not serious, you could wind up dead.”

I trembled but thanked him profusely nevertheless.

“Think nothing of it,” he said and threw himself into his work. So did I. But I could not shake the nightmares of impending doom. Michael was very restless too. Then I received a beautiful box of chocolates and a message from Malik. He had adopted Bo Tak as his son and heir. The red Harley was a present from his gang. Bo Tak had gone for a ride up the Titiwangsa mountain, close to Kuala Lumpur, and had driven off a cliff. Malik said he was very depressed, despite being the supreme Commander of the gangs. Peace reigned for a while.

But I could not break free of my bonds. I was like an acrobat stuck to his trapeze. Wherever I went, I had the awful feeling that a bullet would find me. It was not the dying which bothered me. It was the anticipation. It kills. After a few weeks, I could not take it anymore and I threw in my resignation.

Michael did not question me. He looked haggard, with dark rings around his eyes, and he, too, threw in the towel. We met for a farewell lunch and he was glowing. He was going home to friends and relatives, and a ‘God, save the Queen, while I was home, a stranger in my own country. Things had changed drastically in the past ten years. Roads had widened and buildings had shot up where garbage fields had once held sway. Babies were born and people had died. There was nothing familiar which I could grasp and link up a chain of events to connect it to me. Of course, there was Dad, Ma, and Connie, my sister, We had met, celebrated and reminisced over old times but they had changed considerably over the the past ten years. Connie had lost her incandescent laughter. Dad and Ma had become morose and spoke much less as they battled Senile Dementia and Parkinson’s Disease. They were dying. I was dying. We were all dying. But there were new lives, new hopes, new beginnings at the maternity hospitals. Despite that, I could not stay.

Like the ancient marina, I was doomed to sail the seven seas. I took the next plane out. To Rio De Janeiro. It rose rapidly into the sky and soon was seen no more.

I heard later that the gang war had erupted again and that one of the gang chieftains had been decapitated and his head hung on top of a pole, at the traffic lights in Rochor.

Father or son?

Wonders.

A novel

fiction, 2733 words

By Dr. Allan Ng, Y.H.

Like the Ancient mariner,

Doomed to sail the 7 seas,

he stood in the gloom,

watching the flowers bloom,

before his trip to regions gone.

As the petals fall,

the whiff of dying stems and fading flowers