The old man bowed his head and
apologised. “It`s all right: I cut in, “it`s all right.” I agreed with what he
said and found it interesting the difference between the different customs,
what is there to hate in that? In the little mortuary, he told me he had no
money at all when he first came to the home. The job paid for his coffee and
cigarettes and some little trips he added
Dada made him laugh he said with his
stories about being sewn up in a canvas bag and thrown into a lifeboat
threatened to be lowered or beaten with hot shovels when the stokers were drunk
on rice wine. He made him laugh every afternoon when he brought him his secret
little drink.
‘ Here,’ he indicated. Since he
considered himself healthy to be at the home, he had offered to take on the job
of caretaker and that brought him a few coins and even a trip to Kuching now
and then, when he and his wife could be bothered to take the bus. I pointed out
to him that when all was said and done, he was still one of the residents but
he said he wasn’t. I had already been struck by the way he said “they”, “the
others” and, more rarely, “the old people” when he spoke about the home’s occupants , some of whom were the same age as
him and some even younger but he didn’t see himself as one of them. His wife
originally came from this island and that is why they came back, ‘he said.
I thought, that’s why most people
come back – because of some decision made outside of their daily lives. I
remembered my father’s footstep on the stairs and knew what was coming. Gradually
I realised what starts out as ordinary chance often becomes part of the normal
‘Naturally each case is different.’
he said. He was the caretaker and to a certain extent he had more privileges
and some authority over them. Then the nurse came in. Night had come
suddenly. Very quickly, the sky had
grown heavy and dark above the glass roof. The caretaker switched on the lights
and I was blinded by the sudden burst of brightness. He invited me to come to
the dining hall to eat, but I wasn’t hungry.
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