Ah Pong
He stood in the streets, waving his hands frantically, almost hysterically. Passers-by stared hard at him, as if he was an alien from outer space, a misfit in society. A sunburnt face, coupled with a hunched back and with bones protruding out in an awkward fashion. He tried to shout, but what came out from his mouth was a loud cacophony of monosyllabic words that nobody understood.
It was then that I realized he was dumb.
He gets up very early in the morning and at about six, can often be seen with a straw bag wandering around the streets and the area beyond. Ever since I was a kid, I used to wonder what goodies he had in his straw bag, but I never had a chance to find out even till today. I could only guess. In the eyes of the others who lived in the same street, he was a deformed monster who was destined to suffer all his life.
He is the younger son of an old couple who had already passed away. Tale has it that he was not born mute. In actual fact, he was a very smart boy who was well-loved by all, much to the chagrin of his elder brother. Owing to a very serious illness at the age of five and because of family poverty, a Western physician was not called for. Instead, he was treated with medicinal herbs which were concocted based loosely on the family’s knowledge of Chinese medicine. And the end result was that he lost his vocal chords forever and became dumb. Grief-stricken by such an event and taking full blame for it, the father died of a broken heart.
Having lost his ability to speak, he became very desolate and withdrawn, constantly staring into space, with tears drooping down his cheeks.
He suffered silently. The jeers and mockeries – he saw them all, heard them all, lived through them all. To the others who did not know him, he was a comic scene, gesticulating wildly to make his presence felt. To his elder brother, he was a total family disgrace. To his mother, he was her constant heartache. He had no friends at all and nobody understood the pain he was suffering. But he had toughened over the years and this was evident from the way he had treated it. The world was a bad dog waiting for the opportunity to bite him, but he was not giving it any chance. When strangers pointed fingers and gossiped behind his back, he merely stared hard at them, gesticulated loudly and tried to shove them away. Sometimes, he would just ignore them.
Knowing that her son would not be able to cope with the harsh difficulties of life, she willed the house, which was reportedly worth two million dollars to him a year before she died of a heart attack. At her funeral, he cried until all his tears had dried up and his eyes were not unlike those of a goldfish. But her death only marked the beginning of the tussle for the ownership of the house.
His elder brother had always been jealous of him and now that the old couple had kicked the bucket successively, there would be no one to protect the mute brother now. His disability to defend himself was what prompted his brother to plot against him, for his brother coveted the house.
Despite the fact that he is dumb and did not attend school at all, he is by nature enterprising. A couple of times, I have seen him at the nearby bus-stop soliciting money from strangers. While some scoffed at him, others pitied him and gave him some small denominations. The money gotten would then be used to buy cigarettes or sweets to help him pass his time. Sometimes, he would even attempt to re-sell his purchases at a higher price at the bus-stop. Feeling sorry for him, many actually bought the cigarettes and sweets. When there were some surplus sweets, he would distribute them to his nephews and nieces.
On another occasion, I spotted him at Sunday church. I wondered why he was there. When it was prayer time, we whipped out our prayer books and read from them. What he did was also to stand up and pretend to read from the prayer book. But his prayer book was upside-down. And at the end of the prayer, while we would say ‘Amen’, he would also look up and try to utter the word in a moment of sudden enlightenment.
There was once when he did not return home even when the witching hour came. His elder brother was so worried and could not sleep. All the lights in the house were burning at their brightest. There was definitely more to it than it seemed. I even suspected his brother of kidnapping him so as to be able to ‘administer’ the house on his behalf, on grounds of him being classified as a missing person. The next morning, at about six, there was a loud knock on the door of the house. His elder brother opened it and to much amazement, saw two policemen escorting him. He had lost his way and was found sleeping in the park. This incident proved to be the catalyst in speeding up the reaction of his elder brother.
His elder brother had his lawyer friend draw up a transfer of property deed and succeeded in tricking him into signing it. The ruse employed was that the government wanted him to declare his assets in an annual asset declaration exercise which everyone had to go through.
Now that the transfer was complete and in effect, the elder brother was the de facto owner of the house, as recognized by the law.
He, the favourite son, had fallen from grace. He had lost everything. Yet he did not know anything.
Two days after the transfer of ownership of the house was completed, the elder brother made plans to knock it down and to build a new bungalow on its grounds.
Piling is now underway. They – the mute and his elder brother and his family have all shifted away.
The street seemed so serene and quiet. I could not hear the shouts cum curses of the elder brother and his wife. I could not hear the limited syllables the mute was trying to compose. Not a single sound. Only surrounded silence.
But suddenly, I spotted him in the streets again, moving his legs slowly as he starts to gesticulate at strangers. He moves his hands twice as fast as he moves his legs. In an unexpected and unplanned moment, our eyes meet.
He sees me standing at the window. He waves to me and beckons to me earnestly. I hesitate, taking two large steps away from the window.
Five minutes later, I found myself at his side. I waved back at him. He breaks into a rare smile. In fact, this is the first time I have seen him smile. Up close and personal, I could see the freckles and wrinkles on his weather-beaten face. But his face is benign and calm. I offer him my hand and he takes it. In it, he gives me a packet of M&Ms. I could not believe myself. Deep down inside, I know I have found a new friend in Ah Pong.
Author: Lionel L (19 May 1997)
