“Fried Potato! Fried Potato!”
Malee, which meant “flower” in Thai language, shouted at the top of her voice as she pushed the cart in the heavy downpour. The rain, which started early morning, had not subsided, and she knew in her heart everyone would sleep in their homes with their families. Her arms were aching from having to push the cart in the wet roads overran by the muddy water, and she felt her throat swelling from having to shout to be heard over the rain. Her clothes, handed down from her mother with hand stitches all over, were flipping against her skin in the wind. Her brother on her back was still sleeping, or perhaps he was too tired from crying from hunger.
Monsoon season in Thailand, like the rest of the South-East Asia, meant bountiful harvest of rice and brought joy for some but for children like Malee, it meant brought nothing but misery. After her mother had abandoned her and newly born child, her father had been struggling with illness, leaving Malee as the sole breadwinner. She tried hard to stop her tears from rolling down her cheek as a few children of her age in school passed her by with their parents. She could only watch other children playing in the schoolyard as she stopped to rest her feet. They kicked her out of the school after her father had stopped paying the school fees and made her sell the fried potatoes in the cart found at the dumpsite near the mud-filled hut.
Cars after cars had passed by, splashing the mud on her clothes, but none had bought her potatoes so far. Soon, she would have to turn back and she could feel her father’s shouting and beating her for returning empty-handed. She felt the warm droplet of water over her cheek as she strained her body to push for one more turn of the wheel. She could feel the wind blowing over her long, beautiful hair as the sun emerged from behind the cloud. The rain has finally subsided.
“Oei. Are you selling fried potato?”
She heard a shout from her back and turned around to find a middle age woman standing in front of the gate. She turned her cart quickly and ran across the street, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the car. The lady, apparently a housekeeper of some sort, signalled her to come into the gate towards the mansion. It was the most beautiful house she had every seen. Perhaps, in the rain wind, she had pushed the cart towards the unknown neighbourhood. The garden surrounded the road towards the mansion, reminding Malee of the sweet smell of roses after the rain.
She stopped the cart distance from the Mercedes, feared of touching the beautiful body. She imagined how many lifetimes she would have to push the cart to afford such a car. She let go of the cart to rest her hands as the housekeeper went into the house. But the wind blew hard once more, crashing the cart into the back of the car and smashing the lights.
Bang!
The sound was loud enough to draw everyone’s attention, and several people came to the front of the house from all directions. They saw a poorly dressed girl with a child on her back, a pushcart on the ground and pieces of glass scattered all over. Instinctively, Malee tried to run, but the gardener was blocking her path. All the adults walked towards Malee with fire in their eyes as the sound of a baby crying bounced from the walls.
“What is going on?” said a boy riding a bicycle into the house. He was wearing a spectacle with the school back over his back.
“Young master, she, she smashed the glasses with her cart. We are about to punish her,” said the housekeeper.
“So? That old car? I hate it anyway. How did the cart get into the house?,” asked the boy as he got off from the bicycle and walked towards the cart.
“We, I mean, mistress wanted something to eat, so we called her in but..,” stuttered the housekeeper.
“Ok. I got it. I will talk to father about the car. You. You are… soaked. Someone gives her something dry to wear and food. They look like malnourished children on National Geographic.” said the boy as he walked into the house.