Log 13-8-13 – White Horse
August 13, 2013
Weather: This morning at 0445 trekked down with the tribesmen to the confluence of the twin rivers to check the water table.
Shortly thereafter it began to drizzle – it seems the weather has reverted back to Monsoon proper again. We shall see whether mother nature holds true to her bargain this time.
The way I see it, she is behaving exactly like a siaow Charbor. Anything is possible including snow in the tropics, I reckon.
Highlights: – This morning a shiny Range Rover towing a cab with a white horse appeared suddenly outside the parameter gate – the sight of this strange creature standing majestically in the early morning light, must have frightened the shit out of the children who usually take the slip road as a shortcut to school – spend fifteen minutes reassuring the very distressed headmistress who phoned me up frantically claiming that a giant white dog was spotted on my lands was pure fiction – it was a horse, not a canine.
These village kids better watch more national geographic instead of playing Pokemon.
It seems the lady of Taku estate is an avid equestrian and enjoys a ride before brunch.
– Even my seventy something Hainanese man servant has taken it ontu himself to play the congenial host. It seems he doesn’t trust me at all with this venerated role – all my servants are dressed in their finery complete with white gloves.
Even the tribesmen who usually wander the grounds have been shooed away – early this morning, two tons of fine Sheffield silver and bone china from the nearby Planter’s outpost was delivered to the house just to prepare for an al fresco luncheon.
On my return from the field – I was greeted to the sight of paradise on earth with all hands on deck and of course that fucking manservant who did not even seem to register my arrival.
Hey! Who the fuck pays your salary?
This relic of the colonial past seems to be more preoccupied in showing off his metier to the lady of Taku estate who seemed quite happy indulging in Strait’s planters epicurean delights circa 1890 – what fucking arty farty nonsense!
Who fucking picks up the bill for this! If it was me I would just serve up economy fried beehon with a stick of fish ball to boot with her teh si.
The lady of Taku estate resplendent in ivory colored blouse and ridding boots – I for myself was unconventionally attired in soiled field camouflage when I appeared with my retinue of tribesmen – who were hauling a deer that we had just brought down at the Eastern reaches.
To say we looked out of place amid such finery and opulence would be an understand statement – I could tell from her momentary expression of shock, this is not something that she is accustomed too.
Nonetheless, she have made an effort to recover. No thanks to my man servant who must have had a tete de tete earlier with her – and who usually makes it habit of speaking behind my back to guest in condescending and patronizing tones viz-a-viz.
‘My master is a new planter…..he is from Singapore….they live in pigeon holes over there…..they are not used to space…..they eat fast food over there etc etc etc.’
Through the years, I have grown accustomed to my manservant making excuse for my unconventional behavior along with slagging me off behind my back.
I flashed my manservant a hard look. He merely raised an eyebrow and promptly disappeared into the kitchen. I will deal with him later – thereafter, I kissed the lady’s hand and proceed to enquire as to whether she slept restfully – somewhere between presenting her with a bunch of wildflowers that I had gathered on my way up to the house and thinking whether I should shower and change to join her – I noticed the lady of Taku estate looked happiest as she clutched my miserable collection of colorful weeds.
I am not just referring to casual happy. Rather it was the sort of sublime happiness that even has the capacity to last today and tomorrow.
I do not know what is the reason for this. Perhaps it reminds of some faraway age of innocence that harks back all the way to some sweet moment in her youth – somewhere in all this, I couldn’t help but feel what I had given her looked tacky and cheap along side the long stemmed roses and lilies that my manservant had ordered the night before from Cameron Highlands.
At that very moment, I remembered distinctively feeling very small in my own house. But when I looked again at the lady of Taku estate – she was beaming with unalloyed happiness, as if she was marinating in some syrupy reverie, that pleased me very much.
I like my women to be happiest whenever I give them things, even if they seem cheap.