"Holy cow!” I grunt at my smart phone, held in front of me. “Why’re you wearing a Communist uniform?” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs.
Mummy Lulu and I are in the middle of a video call.
“I borrowed it for Hot Legs’New Year’s Eve costume party. Now trying it out while pottering around my garden.” Mummy Lulu squints as she steps out of the shade of a tree into the sunlight. “You know, you should change the music in your book trailer ‘Burma Road Driver, Resistance Fighter.' ”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrU4fJIEBJk
I rest the elbow of my phone arm on the arm of the chair. “Oh, why?”
“I stumbled upon the anthem of the Malayan Communist Party on YouTube, sounds like a romantic song.” The muscles shift in Mummy Lulu’s wrinkled throat. “Use this song in your book trailer instead. Info about the MCP is hard to come by, always suppressed.” The moving background behind Mummy Lulu freezes as she plops on a garden chair.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQy-9-tbiP0
“But-history-is-history.” I spit the words out with emphasis, my voice turning to serious. “No matter how much they’re hated by certain quarters, they fought against the Japanese.”
“Yup, accept them as part of Malaya’s history.”
“Go tell that to certain quarters who regard the MCP—despite having surrendered and disbanded in 1989—like the bogeyman.”
Mummy Lulu’s voice rises above the soft chirping of birds. “Now, I called to ask whether you’re coming to our party.”
“He who misses it is a fool!”
Wrinkles fan from the corners of Mummy Lulu’s lips, creased in a grin. “Your fancy dress?”
A chuckle rumbles from my throat. “I wanna be on the same page as you. Mao Zedong’s jacket and a one-star cap. See you, bye.”
/end
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