Fighting in the streets

I live in the developing corner of a surburb, Bandar Sungai Long, and all around me it is common to find immigrant workers who live here. Bangladesh, Nepal, Myanmar, Indonesia, are represented by the usual folk. Then there are Malaysians, too, Chinese, Malay, Indian, etc.

Just now, in the drizzle of a Friday evening, I heard shrill screams, and knocks. I looked out from the balcony of my flat, and saw a chap running. Once he had gone some distance, I saw that there were two of them, running away. Another fellow came by, holding a broom. Somewhat behind him, a slowly walking man.

The chap with the broom looked around, complained to my neighbours from Jawa downstairs, then went back the way he came. He stopped to confront and strike the slower walking man behind him. Motorcycles came by, and they rode off in the direction of the first running men.

I went downstairs to inquire with my Jawa neighbours about the nature of the interactions. They said, Vietnamese folks had gotten drunk, and insulted some others. Confrontations occurred supposedly between them, and some Myanmar(ese). They said, on another occasion, blows were struck with wood, to the point that someone had fainted.

(I noticed that my neighbours' two-year-old daughter is playing with what looks like an 11" MacBook Air.)

By the time I have walked back upstairs, and am done writing these paragraphs, I look out again. In the distance, the motorcycles have stopped, and folk are talking in the rain, far away. More motorcycles ride out to join them, it seems.

Everyone's a busybody.

Ah, these are the time I love Malaysia.

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