Danee's Rendang

Danee's Rendang

For the umpteenth time I opened the fridge and peered into the freezer compartment. I pulled out the Tupperware containing the hard-frozen rendang. Then I returned to my work table and continued my current translation assignment.

*** +++ ***

It must have been a good thing. Otherwise it would not have ended yet. That was my muddled logic.

Just 6 weeks of blissful sin. She buzzed out of my life as quickly as she breezed in. If I counted the week ' 10 days actually including all layovers etc - she was in Paris, it was even shorter, even counting the night we met and had pancakes the following morning.

Well, Zana's now setting up her groups' establishment in Bogor, Bali and Jakarta. As for poor me, Alam Translations is doing ok, but not too busy. But I've moved to Hata Square, a new shop lot apartment block as the duplex was too quiet and too 'Zanaish' even after she's no longer there.

So, here I sit in my new apartment, first night, alone; just me and my Acer and the cold winds accompanying the continual rain the past few days.

As I type this, my bladder - as full as the monsoon drains - begged urgent relief so I dashed to the lightless bathroom ' the 18 fluorescent casing's like 12 feet up there and I can't find a place to climb high enough to change the tube. Must buy a household ladder soon, I reminded myself.

Just this cold house and the hole in my chest the diameter of a camping gas cylinder, the edges of which got weathered bigger as the winds of longing seem to blow through me each time Zana comes to mind.

Completing my business, probably like the visually impaired folks I spend time with on Saturdays, as I re-flied I heard it. Like a welcomed memory, good sounds seeped through the wall, un-numbing my coconut. Someone's strumming a guitar in the unit next door.

I returned to my writing corner and melted back into my mamak shop chair to listen. It was like hearing Jose Feliciano playing "Malaguena" unplugged. I pictured slim fingers plucking away as the eyes behind the dark glasses in the dark room looked inwards into whatever the unsighted folks do see or imagine. Next it was "Killing Me Softly¦ and memory recalled the lyrics and involuntarily I croaked them, woefully out of tune. Yet I am transported. But then the music ended and faded. A wistful silence hung.

I took two cans of diet coke from the fridge, hurried into the hallway and loudly knocked on his door. There was the sound of a number of locks opening, and then she's standing on the other side of the grille in front of me. Flashing eyes appraised me as the top of her right hand lightly balanced a guitar on the floor - it seemed rather too large for her. Gleaming white teeth with a plectrum between them appeared like a Great Dane snarl. A smile seemed like a discordant note on that face but it was there.

"You're the guitarist?" I ask, surprised and embarrassed by my gender-biased assumption. She's just the height of the waifs that I always seemed to hanker for but never met. Yet her tank top was till too short for her and from a couple of feet away, my D.O.M. eyes licked her belly button that was some two inches above the waistband of her cut-offs that seemed reluctant to hang on to her pelvis, yet still sort of perched there rather precariously.

Lightning fast, she plucked away the plectrum from her meissen white teeth. "That's me, uncle" she answered, a quirky smile replacing the near-snarl and turning up one corner of her mouth. "Was I disturbing you?" No regrets were detected in that question.

"No. I mean, yes." Always good with words am I not? "The music stopping was what disturbed me."

Unlocking the grille, she waved me in.

I handed the can of coke that I had un-tabbed as I stepped inside. "Please play some more?"

She motioned me toward a nested table set and pulled out the smallest one. As I sat she chugged once from the coke can. Placing her right foot on the low table, she made her thigh a platform for her instrument and began strumming it.

"Like Lefty Joe," I muttered.

"Right on target. I am Lefty Joe's daughter, according to my mum. It seems that Joseph Doraisamy is his real name. Never met him up close and personal. Only saw him from a distance at one of his road shows. She heard me then. "Danee, she gave her name but didn't offer the hand that was caressing the neck of her Spanish guitar.

"Alam,

"Ah Lam, uncle? But you don't look Chinese! Not Malay either, rather Indianish or Paki. Remind me of former PM. Me, I'm a Chindian. Lorna Chong's my mum.

"Tun Dr M?

"No, before him¦.

"Oh¦ Tun Hussein Onn¦

Her cellphone rang then. Two "yeses and one "alright, will be there and she was done.

"Yes, that's whom you remind me of, uncle. Sorry I have to go in 10 minutes. But I'll play a song I think you'll like..

Before I finished mouthing a "thank you, she'd deftly strummed the intro of Feliciano's "Listen to the falling rain, listen to it fall¦ and then segued into Sudirman's "Hujan, which she sang in a husky voice that seemed a tad better than the original ' but I may have been biased. Even though I closed my eyes, her song carried me faraway to my own 'rain song'.

*** +++ ***

I was cleaning the cat vomit on the landing while controlling my breathing so that my own didn't add to the mess. I felt a soft tap on my shoulder.

Shifting my head slightly to the right, I saw toenails painted the shade of a dragon-fruit. No shoes¦ then a teal green tie-dyed, low slung jeans above which showed black thong panties, a pierced belly button peeping below a short, off-the-shoulder lilac blouse.

"Danee¦.?

"No, Danee's at ICOM. I'm Deena, uncle. Danee told me about her famous translator neighbour."

She offered her hand but I didn't take it. I gestured to my gloved hands with my lips.

"You're pulling my legs la, Danee¦

"No lah, uncle." She opened her door, went into her unit and quickly came out with a framed photo of herself and her double. "See, uncle, this is Danee and that is me!"

"Oh ok.. I believe you. Let me finish this biz pronto then we'll chat.

Deena or Danee ' I still wasn't sure she wasn't having me on ' had a can of Pepsi ready for me when I came out again. She hit the right button when she asked to see my work and also to see me work sometime.

Indeed they were identical twins. I couldn't tell them apart and they'd play tricks on me but I found out a way to know who's who. Ironically when it came to musical talent and cooking, they were poles apart. Danee could effortlessly produce magic from any of her guitars. She also had an angelic voice whereas Deena would be off key even she whistled.

The same applied to culinary skills. Lazy Danee could rustle up something nice in a jiffy whilst her twin would painstakingly follow recipes yet dished up some boring concoction that we'd suffer to finish even as we politely said that it was good.

Lately they'd sort of adopted me as their Pa. Calling me "Papa and loading up my fridge and stores with groceries and stuff. They'd eat whatever I stir-fried in my saucepan or wok. Most of the time it was food cooked within less than twenty minutes. I usually cooked at the last minute and the twins were always rushing here and there but didn't fancy food from the stalls.

Only on special occasions we had rice with curry, kurmah or asam pedas. On the very special ones, I'd make beef rendang.

A special occasion was forthcoming indeed. Danee had just got her results and she was outstanding. She snared the Best Overall Student in her Diploma in Music class. I was supposed to make her my special beef rendang, but I promised I would do that on Monday

That weekend I had to be in Penang. USM had graciously invited me to give me a talk on my experience working in a team to translate the Memoirs of a Geisha. SM, NN and I could have returned on the same day but since the other two wanted to do some shopping the evening after the event, I had no choice but to spend the night in Penang. SM was driving anyway so how could I protest even though I felt some disquiet. Yes, it seems that something or someone was not alright. But what, who, where¦.?

When we stopped for lunch at the Sungai Perak R&R area, Deena phoned that Danee had been hospitalised the evening before. She had been stabbed as she resisted a mugger. I asked why no one called me the same evening of the incident. Deena said Danee told her not to disturb Papa.

I told my travelling companions and we hurried our lunch. By 4 pm we were turning into HUKM.

Danee was in a bad shape. She had multiple stab wounds. One was at the throat. White as sheet and blood was being transfused through her arm. Her free hand clasped mine the moment I sat by her bedside. She signalled me to give my ear and I nodded to the earnest wishes she whispered to me.

After speaking to the doctor attending to her, I rushed home. SM drove to The Store near my place and NN helped me get the beef and other ingredients.

I didn't change from my travelling clothes. Just got to work ' did a lot of multitasking but I was like a robot. I was switched on auto-mode. Danee was on my mind throughout my cooking. I prayed that the simmering item would cook nicely.

The moment I tasted and thought that it was just the way Danee likes it. I offed the flame. Simultaneously the phone rang.

Danee's rendang is still in that tupperware in the freezer. Since she didn't eat it no one would. Not even her own father.

Not even Lefty Joe can produce such wonderfully melancholic sounds from his guitar the way Danee still plucks the guitar and throatily sings Hujan. Her sounds reverberated in my head for days and only recently faded away. Now every time I feel lonely, I'd open the freezer and just look at the Tupperware of rendang. Danee never fails to play and sing for me.

- End -

Glossary:
Rendang = a dish made from beef (or occasionally chicken, mutton, water buffalo meat or vegetables like jackfruit or cassava) slowly cooked in coconut milk and spices for several hours until almost all the liquid is gone, leaving the meat coated in the spicy condiments. The spices may include ginger, galangal, turmeric leaf, lemon grass and chillies. The slow cooking process allows the meat to absorb all the spices and to become tender. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rendang)