MING LAN

“Oops, sorry. Clumsy. I didn’t see my way. Sorry.” I accidently knocked into a girl, walking along the corridor of shophouses, with my eyes looking around for a restaurant across the road not watching where I put my legs. I help to pick up her shopping bags on the floor. She is carrying a black backpack on her back. “I’m looking for a Chinese restaurant. I’m new here. Can you take me to a good restaurant? I’m hungry. I was looking for one and didn’t look where I was going. Sorry.” She looks at me for a while, “Follow me.” I follow her walking quite a distance, the way she comes. She looks like in a hurry. She stops at an old Chinese restaurant at the end of the row. “Have your lunch here.” She turns to me and about to move on. “Wait. You can’t let me sit and eat alone here.” “Why not? I’m going home. My grandma is waiting.” “Call her up. Tell her you're eating with a friend.” “Sorry. I don’t lie to my grandma. I don’t even know you.” “Please, take a seat. It’s my treat. Just once. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” She stands still blinking at me, does not answer me but calls up her grandma. “Amma. You eat first. I met a friend. I’ll reach home a little late today. Bye.” She follows me inside the restaurant. We took our seats and placed my order. I call for two plates of white rice and three dishes. She eats in silence. She had just lied anyway. It is a normal restaurant mostly found by the streets. The tables are almost all taken. We are lucky to get the table to ourselves. “Can you show me around this town? I’m looking for a room to rent.” She looks at me with her spoon in her hand. “You’re not from here? ….Why me? Just tell me, why me. I’m busy.” “Because ..eem ..I like you.” I blurt out. I can hardly think of any excuse. I am not used to this. I hardly know her. I know she is a teacher, that is all. She laughs, ticklish. I was taken by surprise to see her laughing. Never did I see someone laughing at me for what I said. I stare at her unbelievingly. This girl! “Sorry. You like me...we just met just now...how’s that possible. You can ask the boss about a room to rent. I have no idea.” She points to the man behind the paying counter then continues eating in silence then suddenly says, “I have a better idea. Let’s just be friends. I am Tan Ming Lan. I’m a school teacher. Teaching English, primary school.” She looks at me straight in the eye after introducing herself with no handshake. I cannot tell her the real me. I am on a mission. I have to think of something. “I’m Ong Beng Keong. A sailor. I work three months on the ship and a month-long holiday on land.” She looks at me nodding her head. “That means you are in town after every three months.” I nod my head with a pull back smile. “What did you do to pass your time on the ship? You don’t work 24/7 right. I mean.. on the ship. It must be boring” “Eem …. playing guitar. That’s it. I cannot have too many hobbies. I like the sound of the guitar string when I strum and pick the string.” I remember my sailor friend’s story. I take a good look at her face now. A young lady looking attractive with a cheerful smile. Beautiful pair of eyes with a serious looking face. I hope she likes how I look, generally smart looking. I am conscious of how both of us are now, sitting opposite each other eating our lunch. “I like guitar too. Self-learned.” She goes on telling me about herself. “I have been staying with my grandma since my parents left me to her, twenty years ago” Looking at her watch she gets up. “Oh, I have something to do. Sorry I have to go.” She gets up and just leaves. Running a little to her red motorbike parked across the road. There are not many cars on the street, mostly parked on both sides of the road. I watch her. She is like a schoolgirl. A happy school girl. Her below shoulder length hair flies as she moves. Running here and there with her backpack on her back riding off on her red motorbike. I lost the girl. I come again to the town on the weekend. The street seems busier. I sit at the same restaurant, waiting to see her. I did not have her phone number. Never thought of asking for it. Hopefully she will pass this way. I don’t know why I want to see her again. She is just a normal girl. Quite pretty. Attractive enough to me, with her long straight hair. She looks like one of my university friends from years ago. A pair of beautiful eyes, sharp features. A little strict looking, not the soft type. I like how she looks. I have the feeling that she would come out buying something today. It is the weekend. Then I see her on her red motorbike stopping in front of a hardware shop. The shopkeeper puts a sack of cement onto her motorbike and ties it up properly for her. I get into my car waiting to follow her. I want to see where she is staying. She rides slowly passing in front of me but not seeing me sitting in the car. I quickly followed her in my borrowed car, to her house, I think. I drove out of the town onto a small road. Following her red motorbike, passing through single houses on the left and right sides. I saw her turning to her right and into an old open iron gate double storey bungalow house. I park at a small empty space, quite a distance watching her. Wondering what she is doing. Then I see her taking out a few plastic bags. Putting on her face mask and poke a hole in the cement bag then putting a plastic bag underneath before making the cement powder flow down into the bags, filling the bag one by one putting them aside in a row. She takes down the bag of remaining cement powder. Pouring the remainder into a yellow pail, mixing it with sand and water. She goes in and out of that place taking the pail of mixed cement, for about half an hour. Then she keeps everything, pushing in her motorbike under that shed. It is getting hot. She walks to the front yard and enters her house. I drive away feeling hungry. I’ll come again to see what is going on there. According to what my father told me, I think this is the right house I am looking for. An old double storey bungalow with a big compound in a village. The other nearby houses are new. They would not know the bungalow’s history. I have to find out more. I wonder why the girl’s surname is ‘Tan’, not Ong, like me or my father. Who is her father? Is she the girl I am looking for? From far I can see a girl up on a tree sawing the broken branches. I can hear the chainsaw sound from where I am at the same spot where I parked earlier. One by one the branches fall to the ground. Is she killing that tree? Why not just cut the trunk from the bottom? Why must she go up there? So dangerous. I cannot help being a busybody. I get out of the car, lock it and leave where it is. I walk to the house, open the rusty gate and walk towards her. I look up, she looks down and stops the saw motor, not taking her eyes off me. ”You’re that sailor I met at the restaurant that day. What are you doing here? How do you know I’m here? Are you a stalker sailor? Get away. Dangerous.” From the tree top she asks me with a line of questions. Before I can answer her, she continues sawing off the other branch with the deafening noise in my ears. What a girl. . That tree looks neat with low branches. She has stopped sawing and carefully hangs the chainsaw on the rope hook and lowers it to the ground. I watch her slowly get herself down, stepping on the branches and jumping down from the lowest branch, three feet from the ground. She picks up the saw and walks to another shady tree, sitting there fanning herself with a grass fan. Unbuttoned her sleeves and rolled up. She pours out a glass of water from the bottle at the tree trunk, hidden from my sight, and hands it to me. “Just water. You must be thirsty too standing there.” I get closer to her and take it. Emptying the glass I hand it back to her. She pours a little water into it and turns the glass around and wash the outside as the water inside flows out, cleaning the glass. She pours herself a glass and drinks. That fascinates me. So clever of her. “Why are you cutting all the branches? You’re killing that mango tree?” “No. I love that mango tree. It bears a lot of fruit every year. Too tall. The strong wind broke the branch a few days ago. I take the chance to shorten it so that it won’t break again. It will grow new branches very fast. There'll be more flowers with new branches. I’ll cut the other tree next time. Tired now. The saw is quite heavy. My hands are not strong enough.” “Hire someone to do it for you.” “No. They don’t listen. Simply cut. I can do better. See?” She points to the neatly cut tree, her masterpiece, happily. I smile at her. She gets up and starts the chainsaw again. She begins sawing the branches on the ground to almost the same length. “For firewood.” “For cooking?” “No. Barbeque. Grilling. Outside the house.” She has to shout while talking to me as she stops sawing. She keeps on sawing until there are no more branches to cut. Even the small ones are all shortened. “Let it dry there. I’ll pick them up after a week.” She explains without me asking. She walks to another tree. Looking up, she throws up a rope to the branch and pulls its end down, tying it to the higher branch. She takes the end on the ground and ties the chainsaw handle. Then climbed up the tree slowly, walking to that branch and positioned herself before pulling up the chainsaw. She climbs up higher and starts cutting the small blocking branches off before cutting the target big branch. Making the rambutan tree look shorter. After fifteen minutes of sawing she gets down the same way, lowering the chainsaw first. She drinks the water first before shortening all the branches on the ground the same way as that day. “I’m done for today. I feel like my whole body is shaking. I wonder how my brain is.” She smiles saying that. “Where are you from actually?” She asks me, stretching her arms. “Still on holiday. See places around here. Then I heard that sound and saw a girl up there. It’s you.” “A girl? You can see from far? Sailors have good eyesight then.” I half chuckle to myself hearing her say ‘sailor’. I lied to her about my work that day. I hope I don’t tell a different story later. “You have to excuse me. I have to go somewhere. I need to bathe and change clothes.” Ming Lan is actually in need of a bath, sticky sweat all over her body, feeling very uncomfortable. She is curious too about this guy coming to her house talking to her but she has no time to entertain him any longer. “Oh, Ok. See you.” I wave a little and take my leave. I look around the wide compound, half filled with fruit trees and quite empty on the other half. It is quite a big double storey house with faded paint. The fence around it is rusting, some parts are gone. I walk to the gate and leave. The gate too has rusted. She is at the door when I look back, looking in my direction. I wave before she closes the door. The front yard is bare, with only a few flower pots by the main door. A new tree is growing on the right hand side at the house corner. I walk to my car and leave the place. “Who’s there, Ming Lan?” her grandma calls to her. “Someone passing by. Asking for direction. Let’s eat, Amma. I’m hungry.” Ming Lan is wondering why that guy was here but not mentioning him to her grandma. Ming Lan and her grandma have lived together in the house since she can remember. Her grandma has been her mother and father, knowing the neighbours and no one else other than friends at school. She has no interest in knowing more about herself. She has accepted her life, feeling comfortable with it, alone with her grandma running their own life there. She feels lonely at times and finds something to do to cheer herself up. She does not want to worry her grandma who had suffered enough in raising her on her own being a jobless woman. Ming Lan picked up skills, seeing and asking her senior colleague at school, learning from them. Her own friends are busy with their own life somewhere else, leaving her and grandma at the same place. She loves the place very much, and so does her grandma. The girl even moves the lawn herself, keeping the place clean and neat. She is still a single girl, even during her five years of courses. She had made up her mind not to get married, resenting her own life without parents, at times. Ming Lan’s grandma is an elderly at sixty three. She still looks fine for her age without obvious wrinkles on her face. She can see clearly without spectacles except when sewing. She looks calm despite her years of suffering in raising her only granddaughter until the girl can earn and provides for both of them. She feels blessed with Ming Lan’s earnings and keeps their life going on. Their life is much more smooth now. She loves her granddaughter very much, who has been her only companion after her husband passed away. Her only daughter had passed away when Ming Lan was four. Her granddaughter is her heart and soul, a quiet but responsible girl. I talked to my father after dinner. Telling him what I see. Describing to him the place, the house and the girl. I totally forgot to take pictures to show him the house, if he can still remember it. I was not sure of it myself until I told him. The next evening I went there again, parked at the same spot and entered the gate. There are three men fixing the roof on four tall stilts. The roof joins the main building nicely. I see her standing around talking to them. After an hour it is ready. The Malay men leave after she pays them. I move closer and look up at the nice and neat roof. It covers quite a wide ground area. “What is this area going to be? A barbeque spot?” I just guessed. She turns and smiles.”Clever you.” “I’m right?” She just nods, not even looking at me. She is not chatty today. “I’m thinking... Why are you here actually? Don't tell me you’re stalking me again. Nothing special about me here.” She turns to look at me. “Stalking? No. Yes…. There’s something here. Something about you. Can I see your grandma?” I feel that I have to let the girl know my reasons for coming here. “You’re related to her?” “No. ...Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. Can I see her?” “Wait here.” She walks into the house through the side door and comes out with a short hair elderly lady, about sixty. She is in her dark long pants and short sleeve small floral blouse. I think I have seen that lady’s face somewhere. I quickly introduced myself to her. “I’m Ong Beng Keong. My father is Ong Kee Teng. I come from the city.” I said slowly. She looks surprised to hear my Dad’s name. “Ong Kee Teng? How is your father?” She asked immediately. “Not so well now. Can I talk to you?” I asked her. I am quite surprised that she knows my father. I must be at the right place. She calls me and Ming Lan inside the house. I follow her to the living room. “You wait here.” She goes into a room. The house is quite big, a double storey building. Looking beautiful from outside, minus the old paint. Elegantly old setting inside. There are a few framed pictures lining the wall. One of them is my father’s wedding picture. I recognise his young face I see everyday at my office wall. So, this must be the house my Dad was talking about. I am lucky. “How old is this house?’ I asked Ming Lan. Her grandma is still in the room. “I don’t know. My Grandpa built this house when my Mom was a teenager. Maybe 45 years ago, maybe. My grandma can tell you.” Ming Lan is hoping to hear something she never knew from her grandma too, with this Ong Beng Keong coming here. “Looks like there are more Malays than Chinese here.” “Yes. Most of the neighbours are Malays. They are nice people. Most Chinese live in town doing business. Her grandma comes out from the room with an old album. Giving it to me. She always looks calm. I flip and see the old photos inside. I have seen some similar photos at home before. The lady turns the photo album face her and introduces the people in the pictures. “My husband and I. Your father. Ming Lan’s mother. Your father and her mother.” She points at the faces in the album and turns it facing me. Ming Lan takes a closer look. “Your father? I don’t understand.” ….”Then you’re my brother? Who’s your mother?” She asked me. Looking at me then at her mother’s picture and the man next to her, who is my father. Meaning, he is her father too whose wife is her mother. “Maybe. I don’t know. We have to go and see my Dad to confirm this. Can you take leave? Two days.” I turn to her and ask. Hoping to get the answer soon. I am curious too. Ming Lan looks at her grandma and the elder lady looks at her. Both are silent. Ming Lan keeps looking at the beautiful bride next to a big-faced man, who is quite good looking. ‘So, this is my mother and father…. His father. Is she his mother too? We’re brother and sister?’ Ming Lan thought to herself, getting puzzled.