Behind the visibility
By Socheata Sim
While it is so hot back home in Cambodia, some days it can be cold and other day, heavy rains in Melbourne. Today is one of those days you woke up to find that the sky is going to cry and the evening filled in with pouring rain. The sky is cursing at the people as she keeps crying and her tears rolling down none stop on us. As I left the university library thinking to myself what a bad day I have gone through today, how disappointed I have been feeling, how guilty I am toward myself for not working hard enough, for not doing good enough, for not learning enough English, for not clever enough to be able to strife for what I am determined to do. At the corner of my mind, I am happy that the sky is cursing me at the right time with this cold pouring rain. While my mind forbids me from curse myself through the emotional feeling, the sky is doing that on my behalf.
7.30pm… I am on the tram coming home. As my mind blurs and no focus is given to anything happening on the tram, my eyes met with an older age man. I flicked my eyes away from him because I am having enough bad time for myself. I do not want my brain to record any further negative image. Even my mind told me that, I cannot protest my eyes and I kept gazing back at the person. In his late fifty he must be, he was trembling with the wet body due to the rain. I can see those drops on rain on his hair and on his moustache. His jacket also got wet. Poor guy!!! He has a long sleep shirt and a proper jacket on but he kept trembling. I was thinking to myself, ‘poor guy’ I wanted to give a scarf for him to cover his neck. Maybe he would not be feeling so cold if he had that. This guy must be an Aboriginal person. That’s what comes to my mind. He does not look like Asian but or other Middle Eastern person. Then my mind flick through all those statistic and graph about the poor health of the aboriginal people in Australia I have been through in my gender and health and health policy course during this semester. That image of that man speaks so much about all the statistical graph and ratio I have been trying to make sense of.
One woman and her daughter moved out of the seats in front of that guy in the tram and proceed further. I thought they would get off in the next stop but they just changed their sit. ‘Didn’t they feel sorry for him?’ I ask myself. Would it be strange if I go over and give him a scarf I have in my bag? I surely switch my mind back to my uncles and grandparents back home and wonder how they would be able to handle the cold if they were him…. If they were in this condition, would anyone care to think?
Then he started to get up and began to walk. I could see that he is wearing a very old and broken sport shoes. As he began to walk toward the nearest exist door, I wonder that he is going to get wet as he makes his way home because he did not have an umbrella. He stopped at the door and did not get off at that next stop. He then walked back to the where he sat and began talking to the passengers in that corner. I can’t hear what he said but every one replied ‘No’. Then he moved to the next one and here he is at our corners and now I can hear clearly what he was speaking to the rest of the passengers….
“………………..”
And then he moved on to the other part of the tram and all the way to the end. He came back, looking disappointed and returned to sit down at where he was originally sitting. How is that possible? I can’t believe what I have heard and all those thoughts that have been running through my mind 10 minutes earlier. My nose touches with a familiar smell I used t come across… the question he asked every passenger he spoke to on the tram remains in my mind as I stepped down the tram and walked back home. Behind those visibility my eyes has witnessed, my ears also witnessed something.
“Excuse me! Do you smoke?”
While it is so hot back home in Cambodia, some days it can be cold and other day, heavy rains in Melbourne. Today is one of those days you woke up to find that the sky is going to cry and the evening filled in with pouring rain. The sky is cursing at the people as she keeps crying and her tears rolling down none stop on us. As I left the university library thinking to myself what a bad day I have gone through today, how disappointed I have been feeling, how guilty I am toward myself for not working hard enough, for not doing good enough, for not learning enough English, for not clever enough to be able to strife for what I am determined to do. At the corner of my mind, I am happy that the sky is cursing me at the right time with this cold pouring rain. While my mind forbids me from curse myself through the emotional feeling, the sky is doing that on my behalf.
7.30pm… I am on the tram coming home. As my mind blurs and no focus is given to anything happening on the tram, my eyes met with an older age man. I flicked my eyes away from him because I am having enough bad time for myself. I do not want my brain to record any further negative image. Even my mind told me that, I cannot protest my eyes and I kept gazing back at the person. In his late fifty he must be, he was trembling with the wet body due to the rain. I can see those drops on rain on his hair and on his moustache. His jacket also got wet. Poor guy!!! He has a long sleep shirt and a proper jacket on but he kept trembling. I was thinking to myself, ‘poor guy’ I wanted to give a scarf for him to cover his neck. Maybe he would not be feeling so cold if he had that. This guy must be an Aboriginal person. That’s what comes to my mind. He does not look like Asian but or other Middle Eastern person. Then my mind flick through all those statistic and graph about the poor health of the aboriginal people in Australia I have been through in my gender and health and health policy course during this semester. That image of that man speaks so much about all the statistical graph and ratio I have been trying to make sense of.
One woman and her daughter moved out of the seats in front of that guy in the tram and proceed further. I thought they would get off in the next stop but they just changed their sit. ‘Didn’t they feel sorry for him?’ I ask myself. Would it be strange if I go over and give him a scarf I have in my bag? I surely switch my mind back to my uncles and grandparents back home and wonder how they would be able to handle the cold if they were him…. If they were in this condition, would anyone care to think?
Then he started to get up and began to walk. I could see that he is wearing a very old and broken sport shoes. As he began to walk toward the nearest exist door, I wonder that he is going to get wet as he makes his way home because he did not have an umbrella. He stopped at the door and did not get off at that next stop. He then walked back to the where he sat and began talking to the passengers in that corner. I can’t hear what he said but every one replied ‘No’. Then he moved to the next one and here he is at our corners and now I can hear clearly what he was speaking to the rest of the passengers….
“………………..”
And then he moved on to the other part of the tram and all the way to the end. He came back, looking disappointed and returned to sit down at where he was originally sitting. How is that possible? I can’t believe what I have heard and all those thoughts that have been running through my mind 10 minutes earlier. My nose touches with a familiar smell I used t come across… the question he asked every passenger he spoke to on the tram remains in my mind as I stepped down the tram and walked back home. Behind those visibility my eyes has witnessed, my ears also witnessed something.
“Excuse me! Do you smoke?”
❤❤❤
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