I Kept On Walking

I was playing the tourist. Singapore. I had been out all day seeing the sights and it was raining. A gentle rain, but rain nonethless. The air was muggy, humid and sticky. The pavement was slippery.

I stood at the traffic lights and looked around around at my surroundings. I took it all in like a child at at a fair. The sound of the cars, the rain tapping lightly on the ground, people talking. It was a regular day for a tourist.

And then I looked up to watch the 'walking man' underneath the traffic light. I was waiting for him to turn from red to green, to tell me it was OK to cross the road.

Then the yelling begun. The loud, high pitched screams of a female voice. I don't know what she was saying as it wasn't in english. But she was screaming... at him. She was angry. Mad. Furious. They stood on the opposite side of the street and like the other one hundred people around me, I stopped to stare. I don't usually. I'm curious, but not curious to get involved in things that don't concern me. I'm the person that DOESN'T slow down to see the car accident on the side of the highway.

But here, there was nowhere else to look. So I stood. And watched. My surroundings have gone silent. I have unintenionally blocked out everything. I didn't realise I had done this until later. It must've been a subconsious act on my part.

She was a tiny woman. That small asian body that makes her look childlike. Her voice angrier now. She is yelling at the top of her voice. She raises a hand. She slaps him. Once. Twice. From what I could tell she used all her might, but to him, it would've been like a child had connected their palm with his face.

He's not accepting of it. He yells at her. As though it's played out in slow motion, I watch his right hand move up to his be in line with his head. He swings it back as far as it will go and then, with the greatest force, I hear him capture the wind as he brings his hand back to slap her face.

She loses her footing on the wet ground. There is a thud. I am standing across the street and I realise I have just heard her head connect with the pavement. Her eyes close. One second. Two seconds. She opens them. Startled. Confused.

The crowd grows bigger. Some of them continue walking, many of them looking back to still see what's happening. The man turns green and I begin to cross the street, transfixed on what I've seen. I look to my right, I am in line with them now, they are so close. He leans over her, still yelling. How can he be yelling at her when she is lying akwardly on the ground? I have passed them now. I continued to move. I heard the voices behind me. I didn't look back. But I kept on walking.

I take a few steps and battle with my conscience. Should I go back? What would I say? Why is nobody else going over there? I took a few more steps and then looked back. He then bends down to pick her up and scoop her in his arms. She is awake, but I'm not sure if she is aware. A man has approached them. A big burly man. Their attitude changes. It's almost like he has to deal with her now because she's in his arms and he's suddenly paid attention to the fact that people are watching. The man says something to him. I don't know what because I was too far away and I'm sure it wasn't in english.

She lays limp in his arms and he begins to drag her away, towards the train station and out of my sight. Slowly I begin to walk away. But I look back. Once. Twice. Then I stop. I notice the crowd is thinning. People begin to cross the street. I begin to hear the cars again. I begin to hear other voices. Voices that don't belong to those two. Voices that aren't yelling. I turn around and head off in the direction I need to be going.

When did we become immune?
When did we become accepting?
When did we become inconsiderate?
When did we become tolerant?

When did we decide it was OK to keep on walking?