Singathology

by Gwee Li Sui

  Makmang looked at the pigeon and the dove in their cages one after the other. He blinked as he looked at them. His thoughts were far away. He was thinking about what Bang Usop, Kak Haji Dollah and his wife, Munah, had said to him.

  “If you’re not trapping birds, you’re going to song contests. If you’re not competing in the contests, you go to the community hall, to some meeting or another. If there is something on there, you’re very happy to help out… but you never do anything at home to help me!”

  She always said the same thing whenever he wanted to go to the hall. Makmang tried to connect her words with those of his older friends, Bang Usop and Kak Haji Dollah.

  “Mang,” Bang Usop had said affectionately. “I really respect you. You’re mad about birds. You’re active at the hall. You’re socially involved. And you do lots of things for the mosque too. During the fasting month, you help serve porridge to everyone at the end of the day.” Then he remembered Kak Haji Dollah’s question, “How much of your time do you give to the mosque, the hall, and your home?”

  He began whistling, to show the birds how to sing sweetly in one long note – an “unbroken” note as people who were mad about birds said. That was the sort of song that earned high marks in competitions and brought the bird’s owner “good luck”.

  Makmang stared into the distance, past the birds. He could see Bang Usop’s sharp eyes shining in his sunken face whenever he thought about something. Bang Usop was clever at forming circles with his mouth when he blew out cigarette smoke rings. Makmang’s mouth made the same shape when he wanted to teach his birds how to sing. Makmang had many times tried to blow smoke rings like Usop’s, but so far he hadn’t been able to. And, when he looked at Kak Haji Dollah’s expression, he could see how serious Dollah was too despite all his jokes and how he liked to talk about religion. Makmang thought of how dedicated Kak Haji Dollah was to attending lectures in the mosque. He imagined Kak Haji’s face and the white skullcap he wore, testimony to his having made the pilgrimage to Mecca. Kak Haji Dollah had given up smoking completely.

  Kak Haji Dollah had said that smoking was makruh in the eyes of religion: it wasn’t forbidden, but it wasn’t encouraged either. You didn’t lose anything by doing it, but you were a whole lot better off if you didn’t.

  He and Bang Usop both knew that smoking cigarettes was bad for their health. And not just for their own health but for that of their friends and families, who also had to suffer the consequences of breathing in the stale fumes. The thought made him shake his head. But then Makmang felt that he had one advantage over his older friends. They were not as physically active as he was. He helped people who needed help. He and the young men from the mosque cleaned the flats of those who possessed nothing and offered them monthly support.

  That night Makmang went to bed early because, as he told his wife, he wanted to get up early. After reciting the tahajud 4 and dawn prayers, he wanted to teach his birds how to stay active so that they would be healthy. If they were healthy, it was very likely that they would be able to sing in the way he wanted them to. As Makmang entered the bathroom, he noticed that his wife and two daughters, one aged twelve, the other fourteen, were watching television. His sons, one sixteen, the other one ten, were playing computer games. The boys took turns to see who could shriek the loudest. It was obviously an exciting game.

  Makmang recited the evening prayers and lay down on the mattress. And straight away he began to fantasise about his bird winning the first prize of five hundred dollars. He would use the money to buy an even better bird so that he would win further contests. His fantasies were disturbed by the shrill laughter of his wife and daughter watching their favourite TV drama. And the regular shouts of the boys playing their computer games. But finally he sailed away into the land of dreams. When his wife Munah came to bed, she found her husband asleep and snoring loudly. The two girls had gone to their rooms too but the boys were still laughing and screaming from time to time, “Kill the bugger! Kill the bugger!”

  Munah lay beside Makmang, her husband, but her eyes were wide open, unable to sleep. From time to time, she heard a certain disturbing sound. The sound came from the bathroom. Sometimes it sounded like someone knocking on the door. At other times, it was like someone talking outside the door. Munah had told Makmang her husband about the sound. Makmang had replied that the sound was nothing serious. It was probably people talking in the space under the building. Because their flat was on the second floor, they would naturally hear all sorts of sounds. Anyway, lots of people kept their bicycles on the ground floor. And there were lots of shops downstairs. But, during one twilight prayer time, just as she was about to recite the set prayers, she saw a centipede crawl towards her. Her husband Makmang had merely said: “They are God’s creatures. They can take various shapes, but, because we are His obedient creatures, we should just recite Yasin 5 three times after the twilight prayers, and then, God willing, the creatures will no longer dare disturb us.”

  “Oh!... Oh!... Help!... Help!” Makmang suddenly called out from his sleep.

  “Pray, darling! Pray!” Munah called as she shook her husband.

  “Astaghfirullahal ’adzim!” 6 Makmang repeated several times before sitting up. He patted his pillow and then turned it over.

  “It’s only eleven o’clock, and already you’re having nightmares! You must be dreaming about your birds!”

  Makmang lay down again beside his wife and then pulled up the bed cover.

  “That’s right…” he said.

  “What’s right?” asked Munah.

  “I was bathing the dove…” He stopped. “It jumped out of my hand and… I chased it. The bird flew into the bushes outside our apartment building… I chased it again, but… but…”

  “But what?” asked his wife.

  “But… as soon as I went into the bushes, suddenly… all sorts of birds, big ones and small ones, started pecking me all over my body… that was why I was screaming… Astaghfirullah! Astaghfirullah!…” Makmang sighed heavily.

  “It was a sign, darling!”

  “Of what? That I will win tomorrow? If it is, I’ll be very happy.”

  “Not that, darling. A sign that you should stop snaring birds and looking after them. Birds are creatures just like us… They want to be free, just like we do… They want to roam free in the wild… You keep them in their cages all day long. If you want to know what the dream was a sign of, then stop it, let the birds go or give them away to someone else!”

  “That’s easy for you to say! I’d spent hundreds of dollars… and you want me to give the birds away.” He straightened the cover and then turned his back to his wife.

  As day approached, he started to rave again, and his wife woke him up a second time. He refused to tell her anything. His watch showed 3:40 p.m. Makmang glanced at the time and rushed to the bathroom to ritually purify himself for the tahajud prayers as he always did. His wife went back to sleep; she usually awoke about 4:30 or a bit later.

  After leading his family through the dawn prayers, Makmang continued to sit in the guest room on the prayer mat he had used during their communal worship. His wife moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The children went back to their own bedrooms and fell asleep again. After reciting a long prayer, he opened the Quran and started reading once more from where he had left off the previous evening. Fifteen minutes later, he placed the book on its stand and went to Munah in the kitchen. A glass of steaming coffee awaited him, together with two half boiled eggs in a flat aluminium dish.

  “You were talking in your sleep again last night, darling,” his wife said gently. “Was something the matter?”

  Makmang paused as he was breaking open the first egg and looked at his wife. He stared at her for a few moments. Then he bowed his head and took the second egg, cracked it open, and poured some soy sauce and white pepper into the egg. He stirred the yoke and looked thoughtfully at his wife once more.

  “I had a nightmare!” he said softly.

&nb
sp; “Were you attacked by birds again?” she asked gently. “Was that what made you scream even worse than earlier in the night?”

  Makmang took a deep breath and then slowly sighed again. He stirred the eggs and scooped them out into his bowl. After finishing the half boiled eggs, he said: “I was having an argument with Kak Haji Dollah… He had a machete and was chasing me. He wanted to kill me!”

  He sighed and shook his head. “What do you think that dream meant?” he asked himself.

  As he sipped his coffee, Munah, his wife, asked him, “Have you been fighting with Kak Haji Dollah?”

  “It wasn’t a big fight. I disagreed with him about something last week, and he snapped at me. His voice was louder than usual. ‘What do you know about religion? If we were talking about birds, you might know something…’”

  Once he had slurped his coffee again, Makmang told her the story. Last week, the three of them were sitting in the coffee shop, drinking tea and coffee as usual. On that occasion, Kak Haji Dollah was telling Bang Usop and him a story about his grandchild. The child was ten years old, fair skinned, with a sharp nose and big bright eyes. Kak Haji Dollah’s daughter, Midah, had married an Englishman who said that he was willing to embrace Islam. Midah separated from him after she discovered that she was pregnant, and the Englishman insisted that she had an abortion. He wasn’t ready to be a father and wanted to keep on enjoying himself for a while longer. Midah refused to have the abortion because it was an offense against the law of Islam.

  “What did Kak Haji Dollah have to do with the story?” Munah asked.

  Makmang took another sip of coffee and explained that the two of them had begun to quarrel when Kak Haji Dollah said that he had told his grandson, Amir Wilson, that he should show no sympathy towards his father if God granted that they should ever meet again. And, each time Kak Haji Dollah met the boy, he always taught him that Wilson Senior was his enemy, this Englishman who had ordered his wife Midah to abort the child she was carrying in her womb. He told the child that abortion was wrong; it was in opposition to the law of Islam. Had Midah followed Wilson’s command, the grandchild Amir would never have been born.

  “I don’t see what that has to do with you!” Munah demanded impatiently.

  Makmang finished the remains of his glass of coffee and wiped his mouth with a tissue. Then he continued his story. He had complained that Kak Haji Dollah was being unjust. In a soft gentle voice so as not to offend Kak Haji Dollah. It was his opinion that, if Wilson met his son in ten years’ time, it was quite possible that he may have repented and become a truly observant Muslim. Besides that, Makmang had said, the connection between Wilson and the lad was a strong one because it was based on ties of blood. At this point, Makmang had told Kak Haji Dollah that he had no right to come between a child and his father even if Midah was now married to someone else.

  “I told Kak Haji Dollah that he had no right to interfere in the relationship between a child and his father. Perhaps he was offended by my remarks!”

  Makmang tried once more to convince his wife that he had indeed used a soft and gentle voice in order not to offend Kak Haji Dollah. But Kak Haji Dollah was really angry. He had replied, “What do you know about anything? Keeping birds is a sin. Smoking cigarettes is makruh. You know all that, don’t you?” Then he stood up and said angrily, “What do you know about religion? Don’t lecture me, Mang. I know more about religion than you do!” He was really harsh. Then he walked away and left us. Bang Usop was dumbfounded.

  Neither husband nor wife said a word for a moment. Makmang stared into the distance through the kitchen window.

  “But… yesterday afternoon, near Maydin’s shop… we were joking, the way we usually do… when he insulted me, ‘Trapping birds, keeping birds, are sins… smoking cigarettes is makruh…’ I didn’t say anything. I just laughed the way I usually do, I was very careful.”

  “I’ve told you, darling… Kak Haji Dollah is right. You should give up your hobby, stop trapping birds. You should stop smoking. Sell the birds while they are still healthy. If we saved the money, we could undertake the pilgrimage to Mecca. We’re not getting any younger, darling. Work out how much you spend on cigarettes each day, how much each month.” She picked up the empty glass and the aluminium tray and took them to be washed. She wrapped the eggshells in plastic so that she could throw them away later.

  Makmang didn’t look at his wife Munah. He continued staring out the window. Thinking deeply about what to do. Then, eventually, he walked towards the cages and took them both down, ready to be carried to the community hall later that day.

  1 A friendly term of respect, meaning brother.

  2 A religious teacher.

  3 Kak refers to an older brother while Haji is the title given to a Muslim who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca.

  4 Optional prayers said at night time.

  5 Chapter 36 of the Quran.

  6 Arabic for “Allah, forgive me!”

  网上老头

  作者：韩劳达（韩永元）

  祖父, 70多岁

  父亲, 50多岁

  兄, 26岁

  姐, 21岁

  弟, 13岁

  新加坡。一个普通家庭的客厅，父亲在看报纸，哥哥在看电脑，祖父进来。

  祖:

  [一会儿看着儿子看的报纸，一儿看着孙子的电脑] 怎么，我们家里有 订早报，你又看晚报，又看新明，钱太多啊？

  父:

  最近晚报和新明促销，两份一块钱。

  祖:

  便宜，是吗？

  父:

  促销期马上就过了。

  祖:

  [也拿一份来看] 有什么大新闻？

  父:

  大新闻你看早报。花边新闻看新明、晚报。

  兄:

  更刺激的，是看网络上的言论。阿公，你要不要看？

  父:

  叫阿公上网？他连电脑都不会启动。

  祖:

  我需要开电脑吗？你打开电脑给我看不是一样？

  兄:

  阿公，你真想看，我找一些华文的网站给你看。

  祖:

  我虽然不上网，可是我知道网上有些人是乱放屁的。

  父:

  哎呀，爸爸，你果然跟上时代！你还知道网上有很多乱放屁的 人。

  祖:

  即使是没有网络的年代，也满嘴屁话的人，这和上不上网没有 关系。记得上星期的一份纸，那第一版的标题很刺激眼球：加 冷河漂女子裸尸！“裸尸”两个字，就引起一片议论，那些议论 里，屁话就不少。

  父:

  我也看过这新闻。这尸体是女的，全身腐烂发臭，没有头，也没 有手。

  祖:

  你听那些咖啡店里的老头怎议论这件事：这个说：全身都烂了， 裸不裸，有什么关系？那个说，为什么没有头呢？一定是熟人杀 的，怕警方太快找到线索；个说：凶手怕警方用手指纹找到这个 女人的身份，可是，为什么砍两只手呢？按手指纹只是一只啊！

  弟姐:

  [进来之前已听到他们的谈话] 哗，谋杀案？谁谋杀谁？

  祖:

  你们看，这种事情最吸引人。

  兄:

  [看着电脑]我也看到一些网上的言论……“警方已经把那个无 头女尸列为谋杀案。”

  父:

  看看那些网站的网民怎么说。

  兄:

  这个网民想象力特别丰富。这说：杀人凶手肯定不是本地人， 因为本地人知道，按手指纹是右手的，他砍两只手，可见不熟悉 新加坡的情况。下一条跟帖：不是外劳，还有谁？

  父:

  无聊！难道外劳不知道，全界的国家都是用右手的拇指盖指纹 的！

  祖:

  又牵扯到外劳！

  兄:

 
还记得小印度的骚乱吗？都是外劳惹的祸，不，准确地说，是酒 精惹的祸。好几百人看着暴民砸警察车、救护车，又掀翻警察 车，烧救护车，有起哄鼓噪的，有看热闹的，你们知道一些网民发 什么议论吗？

  祖:

  他们怎么说？

  兄:

  英文的，我得翻译。“小印度乱后，黄金戏院的小曼谷就会有 样学样，乌节路幸运大厦的菲宾和印尼女佣也会打抢商店了，如 切路的越南妹也会游行示威了……”

  弟:

  爸，还好我们的女佣是缅甸来的。

  父:

  叫妈妈对她好一些。

  姐:

  我们星期天都没有让她出门。

  弟:

  我看要把全新加坡的女佣都关在家里，比较安全。

  兄:

  把她们当犯人啊？你是中了网络的毒了。

  姐:

  都跟你说了：不要人云亦云。

  兄:

  你看这一条有多毒：40年才一次，太久了。最好每年乱一次，我 们的警察才得到很好的锻炼不会像这次一样，跑得比那些他们 要捉的人还快。

  祖:

  真是岂有此理，这种言论是坏警察名誉，要是李光耀当总理的 时代，一定把他告上法庭，告到他破产。

  兄:

  阿公，谁做总理都一样，极的言论是危害国家的行为，警方可以 采取行动。问题是，网上的言论是谁发的，没有人知道。