GOL?

By Amir Hafizi

She shivers in the wind like the last leaf on a dying tree.

I let her hear my footsteps.

I had walked to Leeyas Corner just to watch the game, without realising that by the end of the night, my past would catch up to me.

“So what do you desire?” she said. I know her. She’s the Indonesian waitress who watches P Ramlee movies and laughs hard ‘coz she hasn’t seen them before a million times. But, if you squint really hard, you can imagine her as a blonde Caucasian in a red dress who doesn’t really belong in a gritty, jazzy, dirty, saxophone-ridden, sex-obsessed city.

A city full of lonely points of light on big, black dark rectangular boxes – which is a gritty way of saying ‘buildings’. Concrete condoms, said Ruhayat X.

A city made for the Comedian. And now, he’s on to me. I was the last one. The last detail he had to take care of. That maniac. That psycho-killer.

I didn’t have a trenchcoat on, but if I had, I would have pulled it around me.

The wind rises electric.

She’s soft and warm and almost weightless. Her perfume the sweet promise that brings tears to my eyes.

I tell her, I wanted teh o suam. And Maggi Goreng. The ballpoint pen makes silent scribbles on her memo pad. I held her close until she’s gone.

I sat down, and these two Malaysian Indians called me over. Of course, they’re not Indians. They’re big, black men. Big, black African Americans. The only thing missing were big boom boxes.

I knew one of them. Raven. Guy from the office. One night, years ago, he saw me cry like a baby cause a paper died. I cried because I couldn’t save them all. I couldn’t save even one of them. I couldn’t even save myself.

I also cried ‘coz I drank too much, and when I have too much to drink, I always get overly emotional. That, or I get to tell the Comedian he’s wrong. The Comedian hates being wrong.

The other dude, his name was Vicknesh or Vignes. He was running numbers on the game.

“Ghana scored two. They got back one. If Australia score another one, then Ghana will be the only African nation…”

He lost me. I don’t understand bookie talk. He must run one of them numbers joints where old winos sit outside and count the pieces of paper in their hands. Pieces of paper money they traded with shit that had ink on them.

Man like that, he must also work for loan sharks. Must have busted the kneecaps of a few dozen men. This guy is fast. He’s dangerous.

“So who do you work for?” I tossed a casual question. Like it didn’t matter. But it did.

“The Sun,” said Vignesh.

The Sun. Must be mafia code.

“Where do you work, bro?”

Heh. You’re not gonna get me that easily.

“Me?” I said, my innocence the yellow sundress of an eight-year-old girl. “I work for a big-ass Chinese triad boss with dragon tatts all over his body.”

In this city, you gotta be connected to live. I wasn’t connected. I was disassociated. Rejected and frustrated. If it weren’t for my friends the hookers in Oldtown, I’d have lost my skin enough to make two big suitcases.

Suddenly, cries of terror.

I pulled out my gun, but my holster only had a handphone. It could have been HIM. The Comedian. I know he’s out to get me.

Not tonight, I told myself. Not tonight, you fucking curly-haired terror.

It was something he said, years ago. And while others forgot, I remembered. I always remember. My gift, and my curse. It wouldn’t have mattered. All the rest are dead. It’s just me now.

I should have whipped out Lucille, her cold barrel on my thighs. Problem is, since it was strapped to my thighs, I have to unzip and drop my pants to get at her .50 calibre beauty. I should really get a trenchcoat.

But it wasn’t the Comedian. Some German hitman took out some Ghanaians. One shot. Straight to the top. Tough crowd.

As I stood there, with my Blackberry held out in front of me at any approaching comedian, Raven pulled me down back to my seat.

“What’s wrong with you? Put that thing away. Geez, Louise, you wanna get us killed?”

The clock was ticking away.

The Serbs were downed by some Australians. Those Serbs, they almost killed the officers. Denied a last-gasp shot at victory.

And then, it was over.

I got up, with Vickness/Vignesh and Raven. I walked to their car. It was the first time that night I turned my back to them. Big mistake.

A dark red explosion in my eyes. And then, everything went black.

I came to darkness. My throat was hoarse, with an after-taste of rust. As my eyes adjusted to the absence of light, a small, thin man appeared. He was sitting across me.

I felt cold. Lucille was no longer with me. At least they let me keep my boxers. The rope burns on my wrists.

“You recognize my voice, Amir?” asked the thin man. “Piece of shit journalist!”

“I look different, but I bet you can recognise my voice!”

Damn!

It was him.

“Yeah, Jit. I recognise your voice.”

Fucking Comedian. Goddamn Raven. He set me up.

“You’re the only one who remembers.”

Yeah I do. The Comedian. Jit Murad. He had a brother. Whenever they found something wrong about the city, the country, they always say to each other, “At least we’re better than Ghana!”

He worked that into his act.

“At least we’re better than Ghana!” he’d tell the audience.

Everyone laughs. Everybody happy. Roll on snare drum. Instant hattrick.

”Then you know what’s going to happen,” said the Comedian. And he got up and left.

I yelled after him.

“But you’re wrong, Jit! You’re wrong! We’re NOT better than Ghana! They got through! They got through! And we’ve never even been there!”

My shouts gave way to the echoes of his cackling and the closing of a door, leaving me in total darkness.

“We’re not better than Ghana. We’re not…”

Related posts:

1. Australia vs Ghana by Kubhaer T. Jethwani ~~~ Malaysians will always want to talk and notice race. It’s what we do best but...
2. Ghana vs Uruguay by Yasmin Masidi ~~~ Football cannot take the place of votes and mass movements, though it can be part of...
3. Australia vs Germany by Kubhaer T Jethwani ~~~ "The other thing that unites us is our ability to make fun of Shebby Singh."...
4. Amerika Syarikat lwn Ghana oleh Ruhayat X ~~~ Kolonialis yang tak ada stail takkan dapat menawan hati aku...
5. Serbia vs Ghana by Umapagan Ampikaipakan ~~~ "I find myself aimlessly wandering the streets, desperately looking for anyone who gives a damn about...