It was winter in a faraway village. Elderly women were huddled together in a newly renovated flat, typically unoccupied throughout the year.
They carried themselves with gusto. Their voices rang louder than mine yet none of them were below the golden age of 85. They were donned in gaudy winter wear with peculiar emblems — if someone told me they were uniforms from a nearby school, I’d believe them without question.
They were quick witted, veteran players drawn into the whirlpool of a card game si sek. As the night unfolded, their unassuming front did little to mask the trickery in their eyes which flashed of wit every now and then. Their minds clicked faster than the average Joe; their fingers nimble like piano prodigies. Shrieks of excitement and eccentric chuckles echoed from an otherwise imperturbable home.
The smell of sweet sausages and fried chicken was a playful distraction from people-watching. Somehow, they tasted much better against the cool night air.
I wrote the draft in Dec 18' while surveying the intricacies of Hainanese culture. Awed by the scene unfolding before me, I made it a point to capture it in pictures and words. 3 years later today, I conclude the narrative from memory.
