To the Midwife

O-kia stopped trailing the boys once they descended the granite-pebbled path. “O-kia! Come on!” the second boy called out, but all their favourite mongrel did was stare at them from up the slope. What’s up with O-kia, he thought, O-kia sometimes followed them as far as Parish House. Perhaps he sensed a storm coming; O-kia always lingered at Little Uncle’s just before a thunderstorm struck as though he wielded a strange power to read the skies. But there isn’t a rain cloud in sight! The first boy didn’t care. He simply carried on ahead along the Big Road now, not looking back. The second boy ran to catch up as their kampong disappeared behind them.

“So Big Road has your name on it, Mr Big Shot?” Eldest Brother chided sarcastically when he saw his younger brother running up alongside him instead of filing from behind. “Oh, come on, it’s perfectly safe!” Second Brother answered, skipping onto the middle of the road, “it’s not like there’ve been any motor cars on the roads today or the past weeks, not even bicycles!” The Green Bus service had also shut down operations, so no one is going to get mowed down today, he thought. “Fine!” he huffed and filed behind Eldest Brother anyway. Why did Father have to send both of us when one of us will do? They both wondered.

When Eldest Brother passed Church Road, Second Brother groaned: “why can’t we take the short cut by the cemetery? Perhaps a quick stop at Father Pereira’s to listen to the wireless and catch up on the latest?” Second Brother said, “find out if it’s really true that the Japanese Devils have indeed crossed the causeway into Singapore?” “No!” Eldest Brother refused flatly. “And it’s not a shortcut!” I should know, I’ve been to fetch the midwife when Second Sister and Fourth Brother was born. But whether she had fled the country like so many others, was an entirely different question. It would have helped if someone in her kampong had kept up with the times and acquired a telephone, he thought, then we’d have rung her instead of having to walk an hour with this annoying child behind me.

The boys reached the business thoroughfare of Sixth Mile Mark and found all the shops shuttered. Even the wet market that had dramatically shortened its business-days was empty. Not a soul in sight, not even the canal-side beggars! For as long as they could remember, this very avenue would be a bustling hive of comings and goings this side of February, mere days away from Chinese New Year. This year it seemed everybody conspired to stay home and skip the celebrations: no fireworks, no lion dances and no gaudy street decorations. All that remained was a humid silence that pressed the air. On the ground, fallen leaves cascaded across the pavement and danced across their path.

The police station was a single-storeyed building that stood on its own, a safe distance from the shops and it appeared even more isolated in the quiet. Were they closed as well? “I’m going to see if there’s any matah,” the younger boy announced and ran towards it before his brother could protest. Oh, let him be, his big brother thought, I’ll just keep right on walking.

The entrance was almost closed with just one accordion door ajar, and Second Brother found a lone policeman sitting inside, staring blankly into a spinning electric fan. “Oi, Matah!” the boy called out and startled the turbaned officer, “Where is everybody?” The policeman’s face quickly turned sour. “Everybody is at home… where you should be too, boy!” Second Brother noticed that the portrait of King George was leaning against the wall on the floor, instead of where it should be: high up where all his subjects can see him. Back home, Father and Little Uncle already had their respective portraits of His Majesty removed and hidden away – to be safe, they said. Maybe this Matah was about to do the same or maybe not. The policeman saw the boy’s gaze and quickly rose to put the portrait away. “Do you have a gun?” the boy asked again, “The Japanese Devils are coming you know.” But all the policeman did was dismiss him, shooing him out the door. “It’s not safe to be out and about young man, go home this instant,” he said, “or I will give you a whipping you won’t forget!” The boy shrugged and skipped off. He saw his brother in the far distance and ran after him. “There was only one matah,” the boy reported, panting, “and he has no gun.” “This way,” Eldest Brother ordered, ignoring him. Together they veered up the path adjacent to the canal in the direction of Tua Chiam’s Pig Farm.

By now the sun was beating down on them and they began to perspire through their clothing. Their thirst would have been quenched with some iced soy milk if only the food stalls were open. “How much money did Father give you for Ah Sum-Zheh?” Second Brother asked. Silence. “Do you know if she’s run away?” Silence. “Maybe she’s gone to Penang like the Ong and Lim families?” Is he deaf? “Is it true our army is losing?” He asked yet again, voice raised a notch. At this point, Eldest Brother shot back, exasperated: “Quit asking so many questions!”

No one seems to have any answers to anything, the boy thought. No one knows where the midwife’s gone, why the whole world is hiding at home, why King George’s face is shamed away, which part of Singapore island the Japanese Devils were right now and why the policeman has no gun. And what’s gotten into Eldest Brother? Annoyed, he burst into a song he knew by heart: “God save the King,” just like at morning assembly. God save him indeed, Eldest Brother thought, it certainly looks like he can’t save himself or us.

The surrounding cicada-cries suddenly grew louder just as Second Brother ended his off-key singing while advancing along the dirt track – both boys could hardly hear the feral dogs’ barks from across the Serangoon river now. Then just as quickly, the insects hushed. An eerie quiet took over with no more than the soft rustle of tall Lalang grass that swayed in surrender to whichever way the wind was blowing. Second Brother picked up a tree branch that was nearly as tall as him and dragged it along the dirt path, slashing the Lalang as he went. He pretended it was Moses’ mighty staff when they reached the creek, striking its sandy banks to part its waters. As they crossed it, the older boy was startled by the rattle of what sounded like firecrackers from far away. Lucky kids, the younger one thought.

Tua Chiam’s pig farm marked the third quarter of their journey and by the younger boy had grown weary of playing prophets and saints amidst the stench. Swinging the stick up in the air, he cried out: “Die Japanese Devils! Die!” But it suddenly slipped and flew forward, striking his brother in the back. Eldest Brother spun around and roared into his face, sending him backwards and landing on his backside.

“We are at war!” Eldest Brother cried, “Do you even understand what that means?” His voice trembled, “those Japanese Devils have been slaughtering millions of people in China and right now they are only hours away!” He stopped to catch his breath. “And if we don’t find Ah Sum-Zheh in time, mother won’t…” Eldest Brother was unable to finish his sentence. He simply crumbled to the ground, burying his face in both hands.

Second Brother stared in disbelief at the sight before him. He’d never seen his brother like this. Brave Eldest Brother who could fight the kampong bully with his bare fists and win in minutes – shrunken and sobbing. His heart ached to take away his brother’s pain. As Eldest Brother sobbed, fighter planes hummed overhead, scattering mynas from the tops of the Angsana trees and disappearing into the horizon. Second Brother took a deep breath and wondered what to do. He looked up to the sky for God or perhaps a sign of him but found only storm clouds instead; where was he? Did he stay home too?

Suddenly the answer came, like a whisper from an angel, Second Brother thought. He knelt down and helped Eldest Brother to his feet. “Sacred heart of Jesus,” he began, but Eldest Brother was still shaken. “Come on Big Brother, you know this. I’ll start again: Sacred heart of Jesus?”

“Have mercy on us,” Eldest Brother responded. He was right: they both knew this litany by heart.

“Immaculate Heart of Mary,” Second Brother began again. “Pray for us,” Eldest Brother answered. As his eyes met his brother’s, a smile began to creep in. The boys dusted themselves and returned to their path. Buoyed, they decided to chant every prayer and sing every hymn that Father had taught them since they were babies. They would not stop until they reached their destination. We will find the midwife and we will take her to mother and soon, the boys decided, we will have a healthy sister or brother — war or no war.

Thunder boomed in the far distance, but the brothers kept walking.