Butter Cake

The naive child dashes across the quiet street just seconds before a truck from the camp zooms past. The uncaring driver did not spot her tiny frame by the grassy edge of the street under a large canopy of rain forest trees. Her mother's heart skips a beat but the little one is oblivious to her mother's horror. She skips in gentle bounces to her on the other side. At the old General Hospital built by the colonialist twenty years earlier.

It is the same routine every week, on the same day at exactly ten in the morning. The child is thrilled to be with her loving mother; away from her grouchy, old nanny. All frightful thoughts slip her little mind. Thoughts of the routine vaccination for her bronchial infection evaporates into thin air. The subordinate nurses always wait eagerly for her visits. They look forward to meeting the cute child, adorned with her curly ringlets and doe like eyes. She always becomes overwhelmed with all the attention. Her tiny face glowed with pride and a little arrogance.

Shortly after, she goes on her "tours" with her mother along the hospital corridors. Her mother fulfills her regular "rounds" of the wards every day without fail in the morning. These are the moments she monitors the conditions of every single ward in the hospital under her supervision. These are the moments all patients sit upright on their beds, reach out to her and pour out their miseries.

She watches her mother perform her duties with diligence. Diligent because her mother believes in her sense of duty. Diligent to avoid her superior's painful verbal lashings. Her little face beams, red with gushing blood. She feels her heart beating rapidly with pride. Her mother, highly respected by her subordinates, applauded by her superiors. She being the only child claimed all ovations on her mother's behalf. Unknown to her that there was another tiny soul on the way.

She is not allowed into the old wards. She reluctantly waits at the entrances; right next to the worn out, old wooden doors. Creaky metal beds lined both sides of the vast open wards, the old windows opened wide to allow the cool tropical air in. She grudgingly remembers her mother's reminder. "Children should keep their distances from these sick people lying on these overly used metal beds".

The initial rounds over, taken control by impatience she insists her mother not leave her alone again. Apparently overcome with nausea caused by odors of sterilizing liquids lingering in the air. Unhappy with vicious, prying eyes of grubby visitors. Her mother decides that their happy moments together has to come to an end. She gently tells her that it is time.

Time for her dreaded weekly vaccinations. All frightful thoughts and tears flow immediately, at first like a gentle stream, then into a gushing waterfall. She hangs on tightly to her mother's white skirt before she is dragged away by the "injection" nurse. All efforts by the nurse and sweet words from her mother fall into deaf ears. Drowned by screams as wild as a howling monkey, heard far and near, by all those sick people in the passing, dingy wards. All subside in sixty seconds; as four firm hands hold on tight, one then breaks away to quickly dab an alcohol soaked cotton and another stings an ant bite like "injection" into her soft skin. All flow subsides similar to a shut down dam.

As calmness prevails, peace slowly engulfs her little soul. Uncommon for a child of three. A broad smile appears on her tiny face as a kind and friendly nurse places in her tiny hands a squarish Tupperware container. It is full of butter cake; cut into rectangular pieces, much to the child's delight. Her little stomach looked forward to these yummy rewards on each of her visits.

She bids goodbye gleefully to her mother, skips across the vast lawn, across the narrow street, back to the other side. Her home stands alone, which in her eyes is grander than all the other. It stands proud shaded on both sides by giant, old rain forest canopies. As the mynas chirp lazily on the boughs, she sits herself on the front stairs, feasting on her yummy "rewards" with pleasure.
                                                                                        WDC Word Count: 779




In a recent visit, it was discovered that the house is no more but the old hospital still stands in its original condition. However, certain landmarks linger enabling  childish memories to be recalled. It is unfortunate that the old trees are also no more.


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