The Taxi Driver
Missed the bus again last night. Ever since the bike was sent to the workshop, my whole life has gone awry. My time-table, schedules, work, play, meals, relationships; everything have been turned upside down, inside out. As if that wasn't bad enough punishment for not taking good care of the bike, the south-bound train chose to shuttle back and forth at the railway crossing at the precise moment that I needed to cross over to the other side of town where the bus terminal is. And that made me miss the last bus home, again.
As usual, I was not without my resources so I called a taxi to beat the bus at the next town across the Merbok river. After haggling at the exorbitant fare they usually charged desperate people trying to get home after dark, we were on our way through a shorter route to be ahead of the bus. As we moved out of town, I thought a little small talk would be quite appropriate.
"These buses can really fly at night, you know," the cab driver started. What a reassuring comment, I thought.
"Yeah! But they still need to stop a few times along the way to unload the passengers," I replied to conceal my own anxiety. I wished he would just step on the gas instead of trying to figure out who would get there first. This guy must have lost his fighting spirit, I thought. Or he was thinking of the double fare he would make if the bus were beat me instead.
"So where are you actually going, anyway?" he asked and I mentioned the name of the village where I live.
"Don't you know me? I went to the little Chinese school there when I was a kid!" he beamed, now getting rather close and personal. Ahh! I was, up to that point, trying to figure out whether he was Chinese or Malay. He had a sun-burnt complexion, wavy hair and a very fluent local Malay dialect. Sensing my hesistation, he continued, "Hey, I grew up with Mid and his brother, Mood! Of course, Mood has passed away now."
"Aha! Mid and his late brother Mood," I echoed. There were probably a dozen people in the village with similar last syllables in their names. "You're probably in the same league with Apoot and Pusan, too." I tried guessing by mentioning the corrupted local nicknames of Weng Ah-Fook and Lam Pu-Saw respectively.
His face brightened up as he laughed. "Those two are always trying to outdo one another. But I heard that Apoot has been kicked out of the house by his wife and kids, is that true?" he asked. That was news to me. But then again, anything would be news to me as I only went back to the village to sleep.
I told him the truth, "I haven't heard of that. But I do hear about him running after a certain Malay divorcee here in Sungai Petani. She must really be something, huh?"
"Yeah, I saw them a few times riding a motorbike together. Isn't that an offence? Won't he get arrested for that?" he asked with genuine concern.
"No!" I replied matter-of-factly. "They can't punish you for riding pillion on a motorbike! You need to do worse to get caught." After discussing at length on how Apoot got into the situation he was in, I motioned to him that we have arrived at the spot where I would wait for the runaway bus. As a parting shot, I asked him if he would drive straight home after that.
He replied with a wide grin, "Home? I don't have a woman right now. But I'm seeing Indian girls for one night stands!" With that, he drove off. Nice guy, didn't even get his name.
The bus that was supposed to be waiting for me at the terminal came after a few minutes' wait. As I sat in the bus making its way through the night, I chuckled at what had just transpired in the taxi cab. There was nothing like a little gossip and some dirty talking to make your day. And I would have something juicy to talk about in the coffee shop the following day.
On the other hand, whatever degree of moral decay they were talking about in the papers or on TV, it wasn't just happening on your side of the community. It was cutting right through the whole multi-racial society. It is just that we don't see or hear it happening within the other races because we don't speak to them enough!
As usual, I was not without my resources so I called a taxi to beat the bus at the next town across the Merbok river. After haggling at the exorbitant fare they usually charged desperate people trying to get home after dark, we were on our way through a shorter route to be ahead of the bus. As we moved out of town, I thought a little small talk would be quite appropriate.
"These buses can really fly at night, you know," the cab driver started. What a reassuring comment, I thought.
"Yeah! But they still need to stop a few times along the way to unload the passengers," I replied to conceal my own anxiety. I wished he would just step on the gas instead of trying to figure out who would get there first. This guy must have lost his fighting spirit, I thought. Or he was thinking of the double fare he would make if the bus were beat me instead.
"So where are you actually going, anyway?" he asked and I mentioned the name of the village where I live.
"Don't you know me? I went to the little Chinese school there when I was a kid!" he beamed, now getting rather close and personal. Ahh! I was, up to that point, trying to figure out whether he was Chinese or Malay. He had a sun-burnt complexion, wavy hair and a very fluent local Malay dialect. Sensing my hesistation, he continued, "Hey, I grew up with Mid and his brother, Mood! Of course, Mood has passed away now."
"Aha! Mid and his late brother Mood," I echoed. There were probably a dozen people in the village with similar last syllables in their names. "You're probably in the same league with Apoot and Pusan, too." I tried guessing by mentioning the corrupted local nicknames of Weng Ah-Fook and Lam Pu-Saw respectively.
His face brightened up as he laughed. "Those two are always trying to outdo one another. But I heard that Apoot has been kicked out of the house by his wife and kids, is that true?" he asked. That was news to me. But then again, anything would be news to me as I only went back to the village to sleep.
I told him the truth, "I haven't heard of that. But I do hear about him running after a certain Malay divorcee here in Sungai Petani. She must really be something, huh?"
"Yeah, I saw them a few times riding a motorbike together. Isn't that an offence? Won't he get arrested for that?" he asked with genuine concern.
"No!" I replied matter-of-factly. "They can't punish you for riding pillion on a motorbike! You need to do worse to get caught." After discussing at length on how Apoot got into the situation he was in, I motioned to him that we have arrived at the spot where I would wait for the runaway bus. As a parting shot, I asked him if he would drive straight home after that.
He replied with a wide grin, "Home? I don't have a woman right now. But I'm seeing Indian girls for one night stands!" With that, he drove off. Nice guy, didn't even get his name.
The bus that was supposed to be waiting for me at the terminal came after a few minutes' wait. As I sat in the bus making its way through the night, I chuckled at what had just transpired in the taxi cab. There was nothing like a little gossip and some dirty talking to make your day. And I would have something juicy to talk about in the coffee shop the following day.
On the other hand, whatever degree of moral decay they were talking about in the papers or on TV, it wasn't just happening on your side of the community. It was cutting right through the whole multi-racial society. It is just that we don't see or hear it happening within the other races because we don't speak to them enough!
posted by Kri at
2:22 AM
1 Comments:
Dear Kri,
You're funny at times but at least it took out the boredom for both of you throughout the ride. Anyway, the moral of the story; scandals happen anywhere, in any race.
Your Blog fan.
By
Anonymous, at 11:13 AM
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