The morning breeze brushed her face. She squinted her eyes that were irritated by the wind and dust. Clenching on the armrest of the wheelchair she was sitting on with her wrinkled hands, she showed her beauty from the light shone on her face. In the garden with little crowd, she topped the rest as the most beautiful elderly.
She pursed out her lower lip and stuck out her chin; an expression that she could not hide as she tried her best to bury the annoyance inside her. She stared into the blank, feigning ignorance to what was happening around her. The birds chirped like music to her ears, only to be interrupted with the chatters of the women around her.
Behind her, a group of non-local women stood around; a sight in this small country called Singapore that is becoming too familiar. Groups consisting of caregivers and maids, or domestic helpers, scattered around the garden every morning, and today was no exception.
I walked past this group alongside my little prince, and I noticed them as we passed. Their laughter caught my attention, and I turned to look out of curiosity.
The frail old lady sat where she ought to, while just behind her, the group of women of the same nationality laughed and chatted like radios that couldn’t be switched off. The elderly looked annoyed. Of course she was; how would she know if they were not making fun of her, or talking about how she could just die? After all, the language they conversed in was incomprehensible to the little lady on a wheelchair. The same language that pervades every corner of the prestigious streets in Singapore.
The beautiful woman who was made inappreciable maintained her stares into the blank space in front of her, while I, holding on the hand of my little guy, walked on. As much as I disapproved of what I saw, there was little I could do. The group went on with their talking, oblivious to the stares of passersby including me.
The excitement from their gathering soon got the better of them, when one of the women from the group started to shake her butt to the inaudible music that was playing from what I presumed the phone of one of them.
The group got into the heat of things, and they started to shake their fat-ass butts. A makeshift disco was hence set up right under the skies in this beautiful morning, by these women who were employed to work, and that was including the job of bringing the old lady out for a morning walk in her wheelchair.
They started to sing; they continued dancing. Soon, they were singing and dancing. I wondered where I was for that few seconds of my life. Disagreeing to how they made the old lady looked like an idiot, I sighed and shook my head.
Then it happened.
One of them, whom I presumed was the caregiver for the elderly because she was standing right between the push handles of the wheelchair, started her full body dance. Clad in striking red spaghetti top that wrapped her thick love handles, she could easily pass off as a bar top dancer in a pub that had no lights installed and full of drunk horny men .
She raised her arms above her head, dancing fluidly to the music that was still inaudible. She looked down with her eyes closed, shaking her head left and right to the beat like she overdosed on ecstasy. For a while, I thought they had teleported me to Lucky Plaza with their magic.
With my prince’s hand still in mine, I cleared my mind and walked up to the group that was by then completely immersed in this spontaneous party, made complete with music that was shit to my ears and dances that made my eyes bled. I felt the control in me escaping, and I let out an uncontrollable shout that would halt the party they were having fun with.
They turned their heads, looked at me, and asked, “What?”
“Lower your arms. Your armpits stink.”
Andy Lawson is the average man on the street that you’ll not even trouble yourself looking at him if he passes by you. He’s sensitive to bullshit, and he hates mediocrity in most people. He is the author of his self-published book: Facts and Fiction of Fengshui: Facts that Masters are NOT Telling You. He doesn’t have Facebook or Twitter, because he hates to be associated with people who tend to be passive-aggressive online, but he does have a very limited set of vocabularies, terrible grammar, a twisted mind that makes himself God in his own twisted world and an ability to communicate with people who wish to be his friend.