A Different Sky (52 page)

‘He drank country liquor; it's poison. It's not toddy like Lionel made, but raw methylated spirit with any rotting matter thrown in. Sometimes they add dead rats; he's lucky to be alive.' She advised he be left to sleep it off.

Although their electricity was still sporadic, Howard sometimes felt the breeze of the ceiling fan on his face as he drifted in and out of sleep. His mother spooned food into his mouth that he sometimes kept down and sometimes not; he was washed and the functions of his body managed with bedpans and bottles. He was only vaguely aware of these things. In strange dreams he journeyed again through thick jungle. Sometimes through the muted light he saw Wee Jack and turned and fled, or he glimpsed Mei Lan, her back to him, disappearing into the forest, lost to him even as he found her. Yet, when at last the fever broke and he awoke to the soft hum of the turning fan, he knew something he could not name had refocused within him. Through the window he stared at the sun on the leaves of a mango tree and the heavy weight of the green fruit. When he next
opened his eyes it was raining and water beat softly on the same green fruit.

Food was scarce and they still lived largely on sweet potatoes and tapioca, and from the ration shop broken rice and dirty sugar, often yellow with insecticide. People's Kitchens were set up everywhere to feed the starving population, and the Singapore Co-operative Store opened above the Liberty Cabaret on North Bridge Road to provide other necessities. The Co-operative bought cheap goods in bulk from Europe and sold them cheaply to those in need: clothes, household items, shoes, soap, underwear – it could not be predicted what might be on sale at the store. Sometimes Howard went there after work to see what he could find. Once, he bought Polish-made sandals for himself and Wilfred, and at other times a teapot, flannelette knickers for Rose, hairpins, scissors and a saucepan.

Below the Singapore Co-operative Store, the Liberty Cabaret was a cavernous, dingy place on a dark stretch of North Bridge Road where all the street lights had been smashed. Sometimes, if he was early, members of a newly formed political party, the Malayan Democratic Union, were to be found sitting on the dance floor of the cabaret drinking warm Tiger beer. When the girls arrived the men repaired to an office upstairs, a room with a few desks, a variety of worn chairs and a telephone.

Howard had been back at work after his liquor poisoning for more than a week when Rose asked him to go to the Co-operative, to enquire about a promised consignment of soap. The Co-operative was open until late in the evening and when Howard arrived loud music already blared from the dance hall downstairs. During the war, when the Japanese used the cabaret for entertainment, he and Lionel with their band had occasionally played at the Liberty. Curious, he pushed the door open and peered inside, remembering his glimpses of the cabaret at Great World when he visited there with his father. The gloom inside was partially lifted by a few red lights but these could not erase the dispirited atmosphere. In the dimness the bodies of dancing couples glided past, like fish in an aqueous world. A strong smell of beer permeated the place, just as it had when he had played his saxophone there.

Shutting the door, he took the stairs to the upper floor and the Co-operative, its rooms crowded with piles of cardboard boxes and
samples of merchandise. The long-promised soap had arrived and after buying some bars, he also took a pair of stout court shoes for his mother on condition they could be changed. There was nothing else he could afford that week and he soon left, making his way back along the corridor towards the stairs. Music from the cabaret drifted up to him.

Outside the office of the Malayan Democratic Union the corridor narrowed uncomfortably around a table tennis table by the door. A coffee stall had been set up a short distance away and this, together with the table tennis, gave the MDU premises the atmosphere of a clubhouse. One of the reasons Howard looked forward to visiting the Singapore Co-operative Store was its proximity to the MDU. The new political party had been formed by a multicultural group of English-speaking intellectuals who were vehemently opposed to the continuation of colonial rule.

As he drew level with the MDU office, the door swung open and ten or twelve men spilt out into the corridor. Howard stepped aside to let them pass, happy for a chance to observe first hand these curious political animals. As he waited for the corridor to clear, he was taken aback to see Raj Sherma's brother-in-law, the schoolteacher Krishna, emerge from the room with other MDU members. The sight of Krishna was so unexpected that Howard thought at first he might have made a mistake, but Krishna stepped forward to greet him in equal surprise.

‘The Liberty Cabaret is having very much diverse activity,' Krishna agreed as Howard explained his visit to the Co-operative. ‘Some of the trade unions also have their offices up here; Singapore Teachers' Union and the Army Civil Service besides some others.' Krishna pointed down the corridor to a row of closed doors.

‘Have a coffee,' he offered, leading Howard towards the knot of MDU men crowding about the refreshment table.

‘India is to get her independence soon,' Krishna told him as they found a corner to drink their coffee, his voice full of pride. Howard remembered the schoolteacher's impassioned lecture at the Indian Youth League, and wondered at the distance of that time. Krishna had not aged well, Howard observed; his thick halo of hair had receded dramatically and his face was stern, with deep lines about his mouth and brow.

‘Stay for a meeting; always interesting debate to hear,' Krishna suggested, having observed the way Howard was trying surreptitiously to listen to the discussion of the men standing nearby.

‘I have only recently joined the MDU,' Krishna admitted. ‘Now with India's independence soon coming, I am finding new ways to direct my energy.' He did not explain the personal sense of looming irrelevance the news of India's imminent independence had brought him.

The MDU had been formed some months after the Japanese left Singapore, and was whispered by some to be an open front for the Malayan Communist Party, a hotbed of communist sympathisers. This was disputed by MDU leaders, all well-educated, English-speaking men of assorted multiracial origin, some of whom had even been to university in London, Oxford or Cambridge. They were socialists, they insisted, united by their impatient desire to be rid of colonial rule. These sentiments suited Krishna admirably, one set of convictions melting seamlessly into another.

When the meeting started again, Howard took a seat beside Krishna. Full of anticipation, he had the feeling it was not pure coincidence that he had stumbled into this. Looking about the room, absorbing not only the sight of the faces around him but the charged atmosphere of debate, he knew he had waited for such a moment, waited to be amazed; to be politically awakened. Wee Jack's haranguing dogma, coupled with the fear it produced in him, had constricted Howard's ability to find his own political direction.

Before the coffee break there had been discussion about a proposed Malayan Union, a British idea to give the Malayan states self-rule, and the argument continued as the meeting was called to order. ‘It's a bungled scheme hatched by the British to produce a mirage of independence,' a stocky Indian with heavy spectacles exploded.

‘Also, Singapore is to be excluded from the Union and will remain a colony under British rule. It's unacceptable. Singapore must be merged with the peninsula, and independence given to a united Malaya,' a lanky Chinese protested.

‘The Malay States won't agree to that because immigrants would have equal status and Chinese would then outnumber Malays. And in this plan the Malay sultans will no longer hold power,' the Indian pointed out.

As the debate raged, the floorboards trembled beneath their feet with the thump of the music below. Howard had listened to Krishna's angry rhetoric at the Indian Youth League as well as to Wee Jack, but the high stepping debate that now unfolded was new to him. What excited him most was that the issues discussed all centred on Singapore; a place he had given little thought to before. Why think of the freedom of the world, of China or India, he suddenly thought, when he was imprisoned in his own home?

‘British rule is over. Now we must fight for self-government. Our future lies under a different sky,' the lanky Chinese shouted.

‘The Malayan Democratic Union is the first real political party here, and what we want is Independence, freedom from colonial rule and a socialist state,' the bespectacled Indian said, turning to speak directly to Howard. With a start, Howard realised he had already been taken as a new recruit.

As Krishna walked with Howard to the trolley stop they discussed the meeting. ‘They're men who want to change the past; they are not people like you and me. We are small time socialists, they are big time men; highly educated men – men who can make a difference.' Krishna spoke admiringly, enthusing through a cloud of cigarette smoke as they waited for the trolley to arrive.

‘A socialist party such as the Malayan Democratic Union could not have been formed before the war; then it would have been seen as treason to speak out like this against British rule and we would all have been put in jail.' Krishna continued to ruminate as the trolley arrived. Howard climbed aboard and Krishna turned to find his own way home.

As the trolley moved forward Howard took a seat and through the window watched Krishna walk away. His pulse beat fast and his mind churned with the new ideas he had heard. He thought of the men of the MDU, lawyers and teachers and intellectuals, all men with special skills.
They are men who can make a difference, men who want to change the past; they are not like you and me.
Krishna's words echoed in his head and, as the euphoria left him, he began to feel depressed. He looked down at the string bag on his lap with the shoes for his mother and the bars of soap from the Co-operative Store.
The future lies under a different sky
, one of the MDU men had said. More than anything he wanted to be part of what lay
ahead. The talk he had heard was exciting, and the men he had met inspiring, but one clear, cold strand of reasoning stood out in his fevered thoughts. What difference could he make to the world without higher education, without a special skill?

He mentioned something of this to Teddy de Souza, who listened with sympathy as they shared a plate of shaved ice and strawberry syrup bought from a hawker on the wharf. ‘Skills are only things you acquire. Where would those men be if they didn't have their university education? They'd be just the same as you and me. You could easily get yourself skills, boy. Get yourself a degree in something; you're still a young man. This war has delayed many people's education and they are all going off to do it now,' Teddy said.

‘I didn't get a Queen's Scholarship, and I don't have the money to go privately to England,' Howard replied in a low voice.

‘Australia is right there in our own backyard. The education is cheaper, not quite the prestige of England of course, but you come out with the same degrees, and in the end that's all that matters.' Teddy crunched the crimson ice between his dentures, his tongue stained shockingly pink.

‘There is still the question of money,' Howard replied, staring beyond the wharf to the limitless expanse of the sea. Teddy sighed, unable to offer a solution to a problem that plagued them all.

As the weeks went by the idea that he must seek a shift in his life grew stronger. Howard stared morosely at the restless labourers assembling each day in the cul-de-sac to listen to Wee Jack and other union leaders. Strikes came and went to a regular rhythm, work was sabotaged and life interrupted in ways never known before. Communists, backed up by vicious gangs from the secret societies, controlled the picket lines at the dockyard gates, and men could not work if they wanted to. Everything was changing.

Some months later Howard was walking to the trolley stop with Krishna after an MDU meeting when Raj, passing the Liberty Cabaret by chance in his chauffeur-driven car, stopped at the crossroads beside them. Raj was effusive in his greeting, but Howard could see by Krishna's surly expression that he was not pleased to see his brother-in-law. Raj insisted on giving Howard a lift home, accepting no excuse.

‘Only one condition: you must first see my new place which is
nearby, then the driver will drop you back to Belvedere,' Raj insisted affably.

The Waterloo Street home had cool tiled floors and high airy ceilings with electric fans speeding around in each room. Except for the rushing of fans, the house lay empty and silent. Howard learned that Krishna and his wife lived on the upper floor, while Raj was the sole occupant of the ground floor. After Belvedere's many squatters, and the homeless who thronged every available space in the city, there was something obscene in the vacant essence of the house. A smell of Indian spices permeated everything, and gave the impression that food was plentiful here.

Raj offered a choice of whisky or beer, and his sister Leila appeared with snacks of things Howard had not tasted for years. The hardship they experienced at Belvedere did not seem to exist in this house, and Howard realised with a shock how extensive Raj's black market dealings must be, and also how much he had profited by his association with the Japanese.

‘That Lim woman has gone to England. It was in the newspaper,' Raj said, pouring himself another whisky. ‘Very terrible, all the things she suffered. Is the man who tortured her hanged yet?' He threw a mouthful of cashew nuts into his mouth and offered the bowl to Howard. It was so long since he had eaten a cashew that Howard had difficulty adjusting to the unexpected taste. Raj's lack of interest was understandable, but his casual reference to the brutality Mei Lan had endured resonated painfully with Howard. As they talked Krishna hovered uneasily in the background, ignored by both his wife and brother-in-law. Unlike his loquaciousness at the MDU, at home Krishna sank into silence and Howard began to feel uncomfortable.