WiLl I SuFfEr ThE SaMe FaTe As ThEm WhEn I Am OlDeR? OnLy TiMe WiLl TeLl…

It is almost two weeks since Hari Raya started. I have not even visited neither my ex classmates nor my former Muslim teachers. This year, I didn’t felt a strong sense of de.ja vu like I previously experienced last year, not much activity just visiting and receiving kin and some closest kith. Even though an ex classmates of mine decided on a Hari Raya rendezvous, it was cancelled due to lack of participation. I guess they are busy with their school attachment and family and don’t have much time for other things? So my friend and I decide to meet up to catch up with each other.

I was at the Kentucky Fried chicken (KFC) at West Mall. Waiting for a friend to turn up. The scene was ordinary. People from all walks of life converged at the Mall to eat, shop, laze around or came to see a story telling competitions conducted by the YUHUA GRC at the concourse of the Mall.

Amidst the crowds, I caught sight of a bent, shuffling body. Silvery white hair peeked from underneath the cap she wore as part of the Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) uniform. However, it wasn’t how incongruous she looked in the uniform, nor was it her osteoporosis-wrecked body that caught my attention.

It was the way she went cleaning the sauce-stained trays. The way her wrinkly fingers fought to keep the tray upright each time she brought one up to wipe the underside. Yet, despite her frailty, she did not so much as stop to rest. No, those liver spotted hands worked away until each tray was rid of its gunk. Then, hugging the trays to her bony chest, she hobbled through the crowd to deposit them behind the counter.

I have seen many elders folks like the Kentucky Fried Chicken auntie clearing away plates and bowls at food courts, and mop up unsavoury spills on the floor. I’ve seen their gnarled, arthritic hands pick up food remains that even dogs wouldn’t consider sniffing. I’ve seen these very people, who have supposedly paid their dues and should be enjoying their golden years, pick up after us.

Where is the love they deserve? Why are they toiling away at their age? Where are their children? Are they even married? Those questions keep whirling in my tiny head each time I get asked, “Ah boi, you still want this?” Of course, some of these elderly folks choose to work as a means of passing time. But these are some who simply don’t have the choice.

When we’re feeling down or are in need of help, we have our family and friends to turn to for support. What about these forgotten elderly folks? Are they being ignored like the homeless woman Phil Collins sings about in “Another day in paradise”?

These folks may not know the existence or significance of Valentine’s Day but I think a little love is in order. After all, love isn’t something that only lovers share.

Another day in paradise

She calls out to the man on the street:

Sir, can you help me?

It's cold and I'm nowhere to sleep,

There's somewhere you can tell me?

He walks on, doesn't look back,

He pretends he can't hear her.

Starts to whistle as he crosses the street,

Seems embarrassed to be there.

Oh, think twice,

It's another day for you and me in paradise.

Oh, think twice,

It's just another day for you, you and me in paradise.

She calls out to the man on the street,

He can see she's been crying.

She's got blisters on the soles of her feet,

She can't walk but she's trying.

Oh Lord, is there nothing more anybody can do?

Oh Lord, there must be something you can say!

You can tell from the lines on her face,

You can see that she's been there.

Probably been moved on from every place,

Cause she didn't fit in there