by Gwee Li Sui
The old lady stared at him. “Okay, take, take.” She waved her fan at Ben, and the dog got up.
Ben was confused for a moment. He thought she meant the dog. But, when the dog moved to the old lady and flopped down beside her, he smiled widely. “Thank you!” He paid up, took the plastic bag with two durians and headed for the main street with renewed energy. It was 5:30. He could catch a bus with his EZ-Link and still make it, give or take a minute. And luck was in his way. His bus came in a minute. But, as the King would have it, no sooner had he climbed the three steps up the bus that he needed to get down again. “No durians!” the bus driver said before leaving him in a cloud of dust.
Ben sniffed the plastic bag stuck through all over with fingers of thorn. This was the unforeseen circumstance of all unforeseen circumstances. So it had to be a taxi, but he had no money. Patting his pockets he found ten cents. Nothing to pawn unless the taxi driver wanted his five-year-old watch or year-old Converse. Well, Yi could probably pay the cab fare when he got there – that’s the best plan he could come up with in two minutes. He managed to hail a taxi in less; however, the driver was no more enthusiastic about his cargo. “It’s all right for me, but, after you, people might not want to come in,” he said.
Ben scratched his head. He had lost count of unforeseen circumstances. He looked up at the afternoon sky. Shadows were long on the road. It would not be cool until at least 7:30. He could be no worse than he was now. Could he? He looked at his watch and began to walk.
He walked past Bugis, got into Kallang, past coffee shops with cool drinks and shops with shade. He hardly glanced up. If he walked really, really fast, he could pass Geylang in ten minutes. Then, if he ran, he might just be forgivably late. He might even be in time to clap when Yi’s mother blew out the candles. If he had some food… no, water, just a sip, he could start running now, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, even think of stopping for a drink. Not yet. When he passed Geylang, he checked his watch. One minute to six. No, not even a drink. He did not look at his watch anymore.
Cars passed him, buses passed him. He tried to run, then discovered that he would likely fall over and impale himself on the durians. Already, the thorns have mangled his pants and given him a few blue-blacks left and right. He would not look at his watch, but he knew he was way past forgivably late. He gritted his teeth and picked up the pace, ignoring the durians bumping like cannonballs of nails on his legs. And finally, finally, he reached Tanjong Katong. He saw the white fence. All the Mercedes and BMWs parked on the street. And he in his year-old Converse almost obliterated by dirt.
Ben stopped. He couldn’t move another step into the driveway. He had made a mistake. He and the King.
“You are…?”
Ben blinked. A woman in a white suit with glittering earrings and carefully styled hair peered at him. Ben almost flinched. “Oh, god,” he said.
“What?” Her scrutiny seemed to take him apart piece by grubby piece.
“Oh, god.” That was all he could say. That was all he could think. He could not move. And then he could. He moved back a step, but, before he could take another, the woman in white touched his arm.
“You are Yi’s friend,” she said.
Ben felt himself shaking his head. Suddenly, he was aware of a small crowd forming at the porch. When he looked up, he saw Yi. She was biting her lip, looking from him to the woman in white. Such immaculate white.
Yi took a step forward, and instinctively he lifted his hand to stop her, stop her from making another mistake.
“Is this for me?” Yi’s mother asked, indicating the plastic bag in his lifted hand. She sniffed. “Special durian, I can tell. Very special.” And she took the bag from Ben, turned around, and said, “Time to cut the cake.”
Then Yi was grasping his hand and leading him in.
散文: 人物志
作者：周粲
一、黑龙江
有一次到他工作的水果摊去买水果，从他的口音判断出他来自中国； 但是中国的哪一省呢？为了表示友善和关怀，问了他，他说：“黑龙江。”从此，我和老伴私底下都叫他“黑龙江”。
黑龙江无论外表或者态度、作风，都给人一种“粗人”的感觉。已届中年的他在外表上看来五短身材，黑黑壮壮的，行动敏捷，声音宏亮。每次他吆喝，远远就听见。所以老伴一听见他叫喊的声音，就说：“如果黑龙江唱民歌，如《清江放排》之类，一定能唱好。”我也深表同意。
说到黑龙江的言行，前些日子我们都很不以为然。他太暴躁。多次看见他和顾客口角。都是跟水果的买卖有关。他有理不让人。我想： 这种习惯，一定是从老家那儿带过来的。我个人在中国旅行时，就常目击当地的男女在大街上起冲突，彼此喊打喊杀的场面。有一次，他的一名同事对我们说了一句带侮辱性的话，我们不服，跟那个人理论，想讨回一个说法，一个公道，黑龙江居然帮亲不帮理，说了无理取闹的话。我们明知“秀才遇到兵，有理说不清”，也不得不为维护清白，跟黑龙江舌战了好几回合。
但是过了一些日子，我们都发觉黑龙江的牛脾气改了。我们上菜市场买菜时，几乎天天都从他的水果摊前经过，却没再听见他和顾客之间起争执。他的棱角似乎磨平了不少。慢慢的，我们和他之间的恩怨，也随日子的过去，而消弭于无形。我们在对他不满，暂停跟他交易之后，又渐渐地到他的摊子前买水果了。令我们深感意外的是：如同有些人所说的“不打不相识”，黑龙江对我们的态度有了180度的转变。他是那么的彬彬有礼。递盛在篮子里、要买的水果给他，付钱时，他没忘记连声说“谢谢”，使我们有几分受宠若惊。有一天，黑龙江还从腰间掏出个钱包，再从钱包里抽出一张照片给顾客传观。照片中的人原来是他远在东北的妻 子。听看了照片的老伴说：十足是个美人胎子呢 ! 怪不得这时黑龙江黑黑的脸膛看起来似乎没那么黑了。我心里想的是：放着个美娇娘在远隔千里的老家，黑龙江是否会朝思暮想、夜里辗转反侧 ？
我们见过的小贩助手多了，黑龙江留给我们一个特别深的印象是：他敬业乐业，每天都精神奕奕，这里那里地走动着，干着“一脚踢”的活。我们相信这样的人，绝对不可能一辈子都是个“打工仔”。我们知道不久的将来，他会摇身一变，成为小老板。这恐怕就是人家所形容的“华丽转身”了。
让我们拭目以待吧。
二、我上楼去一下
我底下要写的这个人，在不久前已经离开了这个世界。只要是人，不管是贩夫走卒，或者帝王将相，有一天总要告别这个光怪陆离的世界，说起来，真是一件叫人无奈和泄气的事。
我不敢确定从什么时候开始来介绍他比较适当，不过在和他相识到交游的过程中，有一件事留给我特别深刻的印象，那便是：有一天，他和我，还有其他两三个朋友，从现在的国家档案馆那一带他独自租赁的住房，散步到当年的南天酒楼去的时候，他忽然停下脚步，对大家说：“你们稍等，我上楼去一下。”上楼去哪里呢 ？没有一个人问。这恐怕就是所谓“心照不宣”吧？ 有一点很明显的是：他肯定是一匹识途老马，知道自己要去哪里，要做什么。
反正我们所处的地方灯红酒绿，人来人往，十分热闹，等一下子，并不是件苦事。再说，我们两三个朋友聊聊天，看看行人，时间便飞快地过去了。
约莫20分钟后，我们这个上楼去的朋友出现了，他暂时自动消失的谜，也终于揭开；因为他坦白地告诉我们，他刚才是买春去了。买春？那倒是速战速决啊。离开南天酒楼后的一路上，他还详细地向我们描述买春当时的情形。他笑着说：一进了房间，女的发觉他没立刻采取行动，就说了一句“怎么样？”他这时才开始宽衣解带。看他的神色，他应该对这桩交易感到满意吧。另一方面，人到寂
寞的中年，对性的需要，我们是理解的；不理解的是：为什么如此迫不及待？
虽然我们常到他的住所去，但是对他的认识，只限于他的现在。他帅气的处表，任何时候都给人既整洁又朴素的感觉。此外，他说一口标准动听的华语。在我们几个比他年轻十多岁的朋友面前，他扮演的总是兄长的角色。搭德士时，他一定抢着付钱。我们要到某个地方去，一上车，他就先把车资塞进司机手里，才跟车里的人挥别。
他的故乡是中国的哪个省份，他从来不说，我们也不敢问。他对自己的过去，似乎讳莫如深。我们隐约地嗅到：他有难言的过去，他对现实生活诸多不满。何以见得？他家的玻璃桌面下压着一张纸条，上面清清楚楚地写着：“我有权取走自己的生命。”这不是自己对自己作自杀的威胁吗？我从来没见过有人这么做。可见他的日子一定过得非常不开心。但是大家都爱莫能助。我们只是担心有一天他看不开，我们会失去一位明友。
我认识不少才华洋溢的人，他也是其中的一位。我也可以用“多才多艺”来形容他。首先，他能用中文写作，写文字非常优美的散文和小说。也对摄影有浓厚的兴趣。有一段日子，我和两名少女都是他的模特儿。我大学毕业时，一些纪念照片，都是他特地到举行典礼的地方替我拍的，自己冲洗后送给我，分文不收。他既善于绘画，自画像栩栩如生，书法也是一绝。写信时，他一定要用特定的笔写在皱折的、透明的纸上。他赠我的一画一信，成了我这辈子的珍藏。他的英文本来不错，一番发奋苦学后，能用英文翻译中国古诗词，还出了这方面的书。由于编过报馆的电影副刊版，说明他对这种艺术形式也颇有研究。与他失联多年，相信他在其他领域也不无建树和成就。比方互联网的时代来了，听说他也顺流而上，在虚拟的世界里拥有一大批粉丝。
吊诡的是：一个年轻时好像“活得不耐烦”的人，却比绝大多数人高寿。这一点，是他自己和他人都没想到的吧。
三、小上海
念中学时，班上的同学，绝大多数是潮州人，只有一个是上海人，这个上海人是随父母南来到新加坡的。
听说上海人很擅长缝制大衣，我们这个上海同学的父亲，就是开服装店的。店在靠近乌节路的一条横街里，我们有时放了学，就跟上海同学到他父亲的店去。
我想： 就把这个同学叫小上海吧。
我相信同学之间交往，也跟缘分有关系。一班30多个人，我跟小上海特别要好。不是因为我们志同道合——他喜欢打篮球，课余手不离球，晒得原来黝黑的皮肤如同火炭。我乐意视他为知己，主要的原因是他忠厚老实。小上海知道班上一些特别聪明的同学觉得他笨，看不起他，常戏弄他，讥讽他，我却从来不曾以这样的态度对待他，所以他愈常跟我在一起。
中国文化大革命前夕，一大批新、马、印尼等地的学生，为了实现他们的理想，都离家北上，准备对心目中的祖国作出一番贡献，小上海也是大潮中的一朵热血沸腾的浪花。从此，我跟他便失去了联系。我不知道在那段史无前例的年月里，他的日子是怎么过的；我只知道波涛汹涌之后，他离开战斗的岗位来到香港。这时，小上海已成了家，是两个儿子的父亲。靠着他带在身边的我家的地址，我们联络上了。
我知道小上海在香港期间，一直是替一家公司处理帐目维持生活的。像他这么一个心地善良、安份守己的人，飞黄腾达的事，绝对不可能发生在他身上。其实，生活无饥寒之虞，心安理得，比什么都好。
这段时间，我和小上海见过两次面；一次是我随文学团体到北京等地旅游归来，路经香港，他用新买的小轿车带我到各处走走看看； 另一次是参加一个在香港召开的诗歌会议，顺便到他在何文田的家去寄宿一宿，因而再有机会在一起。
小上海勤俭起家，虽买下一个单位的私人屋子，却狭小无比，我随遇而安，内人却禁不住珠泪暗滴。不过她还是被小上海热情的款待所感动。他不但亲自下厨，用塔姑菜、毛豆和火腿肉做道地的上海菜给我们吃，还带我们到小馆子吃小笼汤包。
当年在新加坡出版一本书，是很不简单的事；一方面印刷费高，一方面销售困难。我突发奇想：何不把稿件寄到香港，由小上海帮忙做这两件事？向他提起，他满口答允，结果我那本书既印了，本钱也收回了。我能想像小上海为了这本书，花费多少时间和心血!
当小上海在香港的时候，我常在跟他通信时问他：“为什么不找机会回新加坡一趟，见一见亲戚和同学？“他总是说：等他那里安排妥当后就过来。可是一年过了又一年，他都无法落实这个愿望。从此，我们之间都借互寄贺卡告诉对方自己依然健在。但是若干年前，我寄了贺年片给小上海，却没收到他回寄的贺年片。最糟糕的是 ：我后来找来找去，始终找不到他的地址。人海茫茫，我们两个肝胆相照的老同学，就这样失联。如今彼此都年过古稀，我一直想：在写这篇思念文字时，他是否老当益壮，在天的一方，偶尔也会想起我这个老同学呢？
Three Essays: Character Studies
BY ZHOU CAN
Translated by Jeremy Tiang
1. Heilongjiang
The first time I encountered him while buying fruit from the stall he worked at, I could tell from his accent that he was from China – but which province? In order to demonstrate friendliness and concern, I asked. He replied, “Heilongjiang.” From then on, my wife and I referred to him privately as Heilongjiang.
Whether judging by his appearance or his attitude and behaviour, Heilongjiang gave off the impression of a coarse individual. Already middle-aged, he was short-limbed, dark and stocky, agile in his movements, with a voice so resonant that, when he called out, you could hear him from quite some distance away.
Whenever my wife heard him shouting, she would say, “If Heilongjiang sang folk songs, ‘Rafts on the Clear River’ or something like that, he’d surely sound wonderful.” I agreed wholeheartedly.
But we found it hard to put up with the way Heilongjiang spoke and behaved. He was too volatile – I would often see him arguing with customers always over some fruit transaction. He never admitted to being in the wrong. I thought: This must be a habit he brought from the old country. On my solo travels around the Mainland, I often witnessed both men and women getting into arguments in the streets, screaming blue murder at each other. One time, a colleague of his said something offensive to us and we protested, leading to an argument. We just wanted to put our point across and be proven right, but who could have known Heilongjiang would choose to help his friend rather than to listen to reason? He just stood there, spouting nonsense at us. Even though we knew that “reason will not help a scholar against a soldier”, we still had to stand up for ourselves and ended up going a few rounds with Heilongjiang.
A while after that though, we noticed that Heilongjiang’s bad temper had vanished. We passed by his fruit stall at the market almost every day, yet no longer heard him quarrelling with customers. It was as if his horns had been filed smooth. Gradually, our grudge against him faded away and, with the passage of time, vanished altogether. We had stopped buying from him while we were cross, but now we began patronising his stall again. What surprised us was that, as the saying goes, “no friendship without fighting first” – Heilongjiang’s attitude to us went through a 180-degree change, and he was now unfailingly polite. He never forgot to say “Thank you” when we handed over our basketful of fruit or when we paid for it, a startling display of manners from him. Then the day arrived when he pulled a photo from his wallet and displayed it before the assembled customers: it was his wife, far off in the northeast. Having seen the picture, my wife later said: “She’s a real beauty! No wonder Heilongjiang’s black face isn’t so
black these days.” What I thought was: Abandoning such a gorgeous lady to travel thousands of miles from home, wouldn’t Heilongjiang be dreaming of her all day long, tossing and turning at night?
We have seen many hawkers’ assistants come and go, but Heilongjiang will leave a particularly deep impression: he loves his job, performs it with respect, and is always in high spirits, running here and there in his one-man-show life. We trust that such a person couldn’t possibly remain a worker-for-hire his whole existence. Soon enough, he will undergo a metamorphosis, becoming the boss of some small business – what people describe as a magnificent transformation.
Let us wait and see!
2. I’m Going Upstairs for a While
The person I’m about to describe left this world not long ago. Every member of the human race, whether a lowly commoner or the loftiest king or minister, will eventually have to bid goodbye to this monstrous, magnificent world. Thinking of this fills me with helplessness and despair.
I’m not sure what would be the most appropriate point in time from which to introduce him. In the time I’ve known him, from our first meeting till our becoming regular friends, one incident has left an especially deep impression on me. It was like this: one day, he and I plus two or three other friends were walking from the flat he rented alone – near what is now the National Archives of Singapore – to what was then the Great Southern Hotel. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and said, “Please wait a moment, I’m going upstairs for a while.” Going upstairs where? No one asked. I’m afraid this must be what is known as a silent understanding. One thing was obvious: he knew exactly where he was going and what he would do there, like an old horse trotting along a long familiar path.
