March 21, 11:10 am @ gate T1
we are departing for singapore. so, the guy at the malaysian immigreson says, “kanchan?” and i raise my hand. he looks at his colleague and laughs…like more of a smirk, some inside joke. ‘kanching, kanching, kanching…” the other one rhymes. i am standing there not getting the joke, so i ask, “does my name mean anything?” the guy doesn’t look up from our passports, “no!”
“must be an inside joke,” my cousin says. “hahahahah oh..kanching means ‘pisab’ in malay!!” says my aunt. HAREY!!!
the immigreson guys just add, “it is a name of a malaysian men…”
YEAH RIGHT. some good bull shit. i know it sounds close to urine in your language.
pretty hijabs, ornamented with little jewelry and accessories. i see the women in the restroom taking great care and making quite an effort to arrange their head scarves.
there’s quite a bit of construction going on in the city and around. how many nepali men must be working there – high on the scaffoldings covered with green nets? how many as security guards? how many at restaurants? how many women as maids?
there’s a little girl in pink dancing in front of us in the waiting area. my mind drifts from one thought to another.