Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
Fatimah
She sat on the corner, adjusting the baby on her back in the batik wrap. It was going to be a hot day, the steam of the monsoon season rising above the dilapidated row of shop fronts already. Her knife is poised, waiting for the first of her morning customers to buy her freshly sliced bread. The baby whimpers, wanting her attention as the first customer arrives. Her focus is on Mrs. Ban and making sure her bread is cut just the way she likes it.
Catherine
The children wait patiently across the road for the bus. “I’ll be late for my tennis lesson at this rate” the perfectly manicured mother is thinking impatiently. “Next time our Help should do this so I can make a quick exit in the morning.” Her daughter, Verity, and son Max are getting hot and irritated. It’s too long between leaving the air conditioned apartment, waiting for the air conditioned bus to take them to their air conditioned school. Conditioned. The children are conditioned to sit still, waiting soundlessly so as not to annoy their mother. These precious moments with her a gift until they are ushered to the next location. Catherine is distracted, picking absently at a chip in her nail. “I’ll have to make a quick appointment with Bu Tuti this afternoon to fix it up. We have a function at the Club tonight. One must look her best at the Club.” Verity has been holding her other hand as they wait, which begins to lose grip as their sweat melts them apart. She clings desperately to her mother’s hand as Catherine, disgusted by bodily contact and any sign of weakness, swats her away. The bus eventually arrives, the driver flustered and frustrated at the withering look from Catherine for this misdemeanor. Catherine waves absently at the bus as it departs, excited to be finally free for tennis and the day which awaits her.
David
He has set up the classroom today just the way he likes it. Readers are in perfect formation, maths exercises poised at the ready and the cultural assignment in its place. A new student is starting today, a girl from Sydney. She is a serial expat who is about to start at her third school in as many years. These children seem wise beyond their years, chameleons who change to fit their surroundings, a dull wariness in their eyes as they stand to introduce themselves to their new audience. He wonders about their family. Dad – is he a diplomat? Pilot? Executive? The expat mothers all eventually become a carbon copy of each other as they find nails done by Bu Tuti and tennis lessons at the Club are how they must spend their days. Bitterly he thinks of his own wife, unable to afford such luxuries as they know their place in this expat society. Although they are expats here themselves, they understand their role in the expat hierarchy. Luxuries of the upper echelons such as membership at the Club including tennis lessons with the Davis Cup pro are not afforded to mere teachers at the school.