Everyday I see this AH PEK, sitting alone at the void deck near to my block. He's always in white t-shirt and pants. Frail and has a walking stick but always smile at passers by including me. An arm sling on his right shoulder to hang his fractured hand(he fell recently in the toilet). Hello AH PEK!!! sudah makan? (have you taken lunch?) That's how I always greeted him . Su...dah...(murmuring) With the same question each time we meet, I think he got sick with me. He carries a small transistor radio, his loyal companion. Sometimes there are few other AH PEKs sitting and chatting with him. Come rain or shine he will be there sitting and went home only before 10 pm (I busy body and that's how I know). He's staying with his son and daughter in law while his wife (a stroke patient) stayed with his daughter in Bukit Merah.
Lu tak pigi jalan ah ini hali?( you did'nt go out today) he will ask if he sees me without my bag. Tak lah AH PEK, ini hari wa mau pigi library (today i'm going to the library). He nodded and waved at me a sign for good bye and take care? I guessed. He could do some reading or watch tv at home to kill time rather than spend all day sitting on the stone stool alone. I pity him.
Another block neighbour, whom I bump into occasionally. I call her aunty and sometimes amma (I'm confused). Not amma lah, call me aunty she said proudly. Amma is too old for her? (chuckled). Anyway I obliged. A funny incident took place one rainy day as I was my way home. Suddenly she popped out from nowhere, on her bicycle. She asked me, Eh...lu ada lighter? (do you have a lighter). I answered.. Wa punya lighter oil sudah habis (my lighter dried up) honestly I never smoke, just teasing her. She said ok never mind, waved at me and cycle off with a cigarette stuck on her lips.
My senior citizen friends never failed to smile and say hello to me. I chatted with AH PEK occasionally whenever I'm not in a rush to go out. They are sincere unlike some, will say hello on good days but just turned away when not in the mood to do so.
1 comment:
Reading the story of the old man reminds me of a phrase in W.B.Yeats's poem Sailing to Byzantium, "...an aged man is a paltry thing...". So sad but yet so true, isn't it?
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