Wooden Heart
My old friends called me yesterday persuading me to help Perdaus. They had a collection centre at Blk 364 of Bukit Gombak and they needed volunteers to help pack clothes, food and other peripheral items for the victims of the tsunami disaster.
(Let me tell you) Honestly though, I have no interest in volunteering.I won't get paid working on a Sunday. Furthermore my body was still aching from playing badminton the other day. I contemplated skiving.
But at 8am, against all odds I went ahead, because, well -- why not? I have nothing to lose by helping out. In fact isn't it my prerogative?
So we started work at 9.45am immediately after the briefing. There were piles of clothes in black bags, all stacked and clustered in the cordoned area. I started carrying some heavy sacks onto a trolley when the leader spotted me and asked whether I was interested in following a lorry which was scheduled to visit 3 mosques to collect their stuff donated by some samaritans. I gave an enthusiatic nod. Then he picked another volunteer to accompany me. (Actually he initally asked, is this guy whom I just met my friend? I can't possibly say no.... that would be kinda rude.)
Damn, the rain didn't even show any slight hints of subsiding. I climbed up the rear and sat at the middle of the pickup lorry which had a green canvas top. Unfortunately it had some leaks as well.
Our first pit stop would be in Hougang. The En-Naeem mosque. Time: 10.30am. I'm hungry.
When we arrived at the mosque, the rain grew more tenacious. The door to the office was locked. Where is the staff? So the man who was in-charge tried calling the administrators. He's not at the mosque now. He advised us to call Abdul Rahman instead. (I don't know who he is.)
Several minutes later he came and told us that there were lots of vercimelli in the storeroom. That's right...you heard me correctly. VERCIMELLI (Bee Hoon lah, der...) HolY #^@& he wasn't kidding. Dreadfully there were only four of us(The driver, his associate, the indonesian NTU student who was my counterpart and not forgetting yours truly) and the driver's kid. This is going to take some time folks.
It doesn't make any sense though. How do you expect the Sri Lankans to cook their vercimelli?
Never mind. I got cracking and hauled vercimelli by the dozens. There was no shelter from the back gate so I got totally soaked. Every piece of clothing I had was wet. (Yes, even my underwear.) Funny, I wasn't complaining. I was actually having genuine fun working my butt off in the rain.
It took 3 hours of gruelling loading before we had all the vercimelli on board. We took our afternoon prayers before continued to stock the lorry with more food and milk cartons. At approximately 2.30pm we departed.
Next destination: The warehouse at Changi South Ave.
The lorry is stuffed with so much vercimelli that Noviar (my new indo friend) and I were stuck at the end. We were literally hanging on to our dear lives. If we hit a bump, I might just get thrown onto the asphalt.
The warehouse was located near Expo Mrt Station. BTW its still raining. Give me a break already...I'm not a human sponge. Time to empty the lorry.
Get the pallete. Stack the items neatly. Cover the goods with plastic wrap. Use the jack. Lift the freight. Repeat step 1.
Phew. It's as tiring as reading this post. Trust me.
Ensuing that we had our lunch. Time 4.45 pm.
Wow food never tasted so good when you're famished. Oh yeah I'm 100% good again.
Next and hopefully last destination: The Kampung Siglap mosque.
The agenda this time? Apparels and misc garments. Ooh they are heavy. I'm throwing the bundles in the lorry. Hurl, fling, chuck, launch, lob, toss, sling these bundles, with certain caution of course. I don't want to break the plastic bags.
Do you feel weary? I'm wiped out. Finally, we returned to Bukit Gombak. Finally, we can go home. But not before more hurling and etc.
The leader commented that he was grateful for our services. I was just glad the whole adventure was over.
Do you know God has a sense of humour. Why? Just when I disembarked at the Perdaus centre the rain stopped. My shirt dries and my shoes smell funky.
Don't tell me "A little rain won't kill you." Haven't you heard of pneumonia?
THE END.
(Let me tell you) Honestly though, I have no interest in volunteering.I won't get paid working on a Sunday. Furthermore my body was still aching from playing badminton the other day. I contemplated skiving.
But at 8am, against all odds I went ahead, because, well -- why not? I have nothing to lose by helping out. In fact isn't it my prerogative?
So we started work at 9.45am immediately after the briefing. There were piles of clothes in black bags, all stacked and clustered in the cordoned area. I started carrying some heavy sacks onto a trolley when the leader spotted me and asked whether I was interested in following a lorry which was scheduled to visit 3 mosques to collect their stuff donated by some samaritans. I gave an enthusiatic nod. Then he picked another volunteer to accompany me. (Actually he initally asked, is this guy whom I just met my friend? I can't possibly say no.... that would be kinda rude.)
Damn, the rain didn't even show any slight hints of subsiding. I climbed up the rear and sat at the middle of the pickup lorry which had a green canvas top. Unfortunately it had some leaks as well.
Our first pit stop would be in Hougang. The En-Naeem mosque. Time: 10.30am. I'm hungry.
When we arrived at the mosque, the rain grew more tenacious. The door to the office was locked. Where is the staff? So the man who was in-charge tried calling the administrators. He's not at the mosque now. He advised us to call Abdul Rahman instead. (I don't know who he is.)
Several minutes later he came and told us that there were lots of vercimelli in the storeroom. That's right...you heard me correctly. VERCIMELLI (Bee Hoon lah, der...) HolY #^@& he wasn't kidding. Dreadfully there were only four of us(The driver, his associate, the indonesian NTU student who was my counterpart and not forgetting yours truly) and the driver's kid. This is going to take some time folks.
It doesn't make any sense though. How do you expect the Sri Lankans to cook their vercimelli?
Never mind. I got cracking and hauled vercimelli by the dozens. There was no shelter from the back gate so I got totally soaked. Every piece of clothing I had was wet. (Yes, even my underwear.) Funny, I wasn't complaining. I was actually having genuine fun working my butt off in the rain.
It took 3 hours of gruelling loading before we had all the vercimelli on board. We took our afternoon prayers before continued to stock the lorry with more food and milk cartons. At approximately 2.30pm we departed.
Next destination: The warehouse at Changi South Ave.
The lorry is stuffed with so much vercimelli that Noviar (my new indo friend) and I were stuck at the end. We were literally hanging on to our dear lives. If we hit a bump, I might just get thrown onto the asphalt.
The warehouse was located near Expo Mrt Station. BTW its still raining. Give me a break already...I'm not a human sponge. Time to empty the lorry.
Get the pallete. Stack the items neatly. Cover the goods with plastic wrap. Use the jack. Lift the freight. Repeat step 1.
Phew. It's as tiring as reading this post. Trust me.
Ensuing that we had our lunch. Time 4.45 pm.
Wow food never tasted so good when you're famished. Oh yeah I'm 100% good again.
Next and hopefully last destination: The Kampung Siglap mosque.
The agenda this time? Apparels and misc garments. Ooh they are heavy. I'm throwing the bundles in the lorry. Hurl, fling, chuck, launch, lob, toss, sling these bundles, with certain caution of course. I don't want to break the plastic bags.
Do you feel weary? I'm wiped out. Finally, we returned to Bukit Gombak. Finally, we can go home. But not before more hurling and etc.
The leader commented that he was grateful for our services. I was just glad the whole adventure was over.
Do you know God has a sense of humour. Why? Just when I disembarked at the Perdaus centre the rain stopped. My shirt dries and my shoes smell funky.
Don't tell me "A little rain won't kill you." Haven't you heard of pneumonia?
THE END.
posted by Hisyam at 9:27 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home