Last year I sought treatment from Klinik N...... up the hill. Despite me telling them that I had an allergy to penicillin, the two quacks were obviously not savvy or careful enough to give an alternative antibiotic. The infection went on for 4 weeks accompanied by an allergic rash that made my life such a misery for much longer. Finally, Tung Shin Hospital's Outpatient Clinic sorted it out with steroids - a treatment I try to keep at arm's length - but I had no choice.
This time I knew where to go. But the Yellow T-shirts' Walkabout stopped me in my tracks. There was no way we could get to Tung Shin during that weekend.
Our street-cleaner friends, Aisha and Osman could only balik kampung - to visit her sick mother - by jumping from one local bus to another so they could get to Kampar. They could not get the usual Express Bus, which would have saved them an additional 2 hours of travelling!
There must be loads more stories of disruptions and chaos for the ordinary folks who have no time for the brouhaha on KL's streets. And when I saw on TV the big guns, who had been comfortably ensconced in the luxury Hilton Hotel, making a big tamasha (a spectacle or show in Hindi) at Central it made me see red.
When we were learning the rules of crossing the road during primary school we were taught this little song.
Red, yellow and green,
The traffic lights are seen.
The red says we stop.
It stands at the top.
The green stays below.
It says we may go.
The yellow stays right in between.
(It) says, wait for the red or the green.
At Pasir Panjang English School, we coined another colourful ditty, a 'war-cry' in the battle between the Red House, Green House and Yellow House for supremacy on Sports Day.
It sounded like this.
Red, Red, Botak Head.
Yellow, Yellow, Dirty Fellow.
Green, Green, 'curi' Ice-cream.
How symbolic I thought!
Through my swollen red-eyes (because of the head cold) and a head full of phlegmy gunge I visualized several types of yellow bananas in that pageant at Central. There was Pisang Rastali, a Pisang Berangan with headgear, and a Pisang Raja draped in short-sleeved shirt a la David Beckham's or Prince William's summer style. There was one member of that distinguished entourage, tucked away discreetly at the rear, who was not in yellow. Perhaps that was the Pisang Goreng.
I told you my head was clutched in a tight vice because of the infection. I was hallucinating bananas or was I going bananas?
Anyway we did get to Tung Shin on Monday but then the Internet gave up the ghost the same day. And I also lost my voice on that day , much to the spouse's joy.