Oil Man
They say that children born of mixed blood are beautiful, especially girls.
Jasmine was an Eurasian. Her mother was a Chinese and her father was from Sweden. The Scandinavian blood was obvious in her pale blue eyes, and her bone structure, showing off a pair of wide slender shoulders, a narrow waist and long beautiful legs, a figure most girls would die for. Her complexion and her vibrantly red moist lips had turned many school boys crazy over her. Many boys have been left breathless when she did her athletics run for school. She was athletic and alluring.
Having been active in sports during school days, she always maintained her figure. Unlike going on diet and other short-cut health hazard programmes, she increased her metabolic rate with a heavy dose of exercises. As part of her training, even though she worked for her aunt in a busy research and development firm from Norway, she found time to jog.
She loved to jog in the late evenings. Everyday, without fail, she would appear along Ulu Pandan Road in a pair of tight shorts and small camisole. Sometimes, she would jog alone. Other times, her friends would join her.
It was a sight to watch well-endowed ladies when they jog. And when Jasmine jogged, it was like a ticket to watch paradise. Many people commented that many guys came to the jog-track to be close to Jasmine. Construction worker, Indians and Thai young men working in Singapore on work passes in the neighbourhood would line the bridge just to ogle at her.
There was a vicious rumour going around the neighbourhood. Nobody knew whether to believe it or not. But that in itself makes the rumour true. Several people had seen an Orang Minyak in the vicinity. It was a long term forgotten in the memory of the elders, was there such a man? Such a creature? The gossiping mill threw our all sorts of ideas.
An half-naked man, he would be covered with oil, and his skin would glimmer and shine. He was often spotted hidden among the bushes, where he would be oogling girls. There were a few reports of molest, from some female joggers who happened to be alone then.
It was a dark man short and fudgy. The idea of oil, and covered by oil made him elusive. Some said that some Bangladeshi workers gave chase to the man but when they caught him, he slipped away. What was shocking was that the greasy oil left on the Bangladeshi workers could not be washed away. Strange rashes broke out. The neighbour was being paranoid as more reports and sightings filtered in.
Such news always reached Jasmine’s mother, Madam Siah fast. She knew the pulse of the neighbourhood like the back of her hand. The police patrols increased but that did not reduce the rumours spreading around.
Madam Siah was always nagging when Jasmine dressed up so scantily to go for her jogs. She always stressed on her daughter that it was not an Asian fashion.
“What would your future husband say?” She would ask.
“Why, must he bother, mum?”
“Husbands have a ‘say’ in how you dress, you know.”
“Only Chinese husbands… I am going to Norway to settle down…”
“Can’t talk to you.”
“Don’t get angry mum,” she pleaded.
“Jasmine, must you go jogging at this hour? It’s quite late.”
“Mother, I’ll be alright. I have been jogging like this everyday for almost a year now. Nothing has happened.” Jasmine was tying the shoelaces of her Nike shoes. It was a hot night, and Jasmine had on a black body-hugging mid-riff, and a pair of short shorts. The main reason behind her mother’s agitation.
“But Jasmine, I’ve heard reports of a serial rapist moving around from our neighbours.”
Madam Siah did not expect a laughter. The laughter irritated her. Jasmine realised it after her burst of laughter. She looked serious within a second to salvage the situation.
“Mother, you haven’t been talking to Mrs. Wong from next door, haven’t you? You know how she exaggerates. Isn’t she the one who keeps her son under house arrest? The poor boy… when he goes to National Service, he will surely be traumatised.” Jasmine was trying to put her mother at ease.
“Don’t you have any fear?”
“Mom, of course I do, but we cannot be living our lives in constant fear. That is not living. You fear this, you fear that, you fear this, you fear that…” She acted it out and said it in Madam Wong’s mannerisms.
“Serial rapist with Aids, you know?”
“Mum, you know my motto, don’t get even, get revenge. If I am like Mrs. Wong’s son, I…” She imitated Mrs. Wong again.
It worked, because her mother was laughing away.
“Well, you take care okay? Make sure you jog along the main track, and stay out of the dark ones!”
“Bye mother and there are no dark tracks at the park. Mum, remember that many people were there to watch my bumps. Imagine if I am not there!” She wiggled her bumps.
“You spoiled girl!” Her mother watched Jasmine go. She knew that Jasmine would not find trouble and if trouble comes, she would fight it.
Jasmine was found dead three days later. Her body was discovered by a couple.
By then, it had already decomposed, and the stench of rotting flesh was what led them to discover the body.
Her family was devastated. The autopsy report showed that Jasmine was raped before she was finally strangled to death. What was odd, though, was when the body was examined, forensic pathologists found traces of oil on her body.
However, the rape part was left out of the papers because her mother had requested so to protect her deceased daughter’s good name. The police never found the killer. They suspected that it was the foreign workers so they cancelled everyone’s work permit and sent them home. Some people blamed it on the Orang Minyak.
Many people till today believed the Orang Minyak did such terrible things. But strangely, a few weeks after Jasmine’s death, all reports of molest or even the sightings of the Orang Minyak suddenly ceased. Everyone wondered why?
Only Madam Siah knew the answer. Against the wishes of her husband, she buried her daughter in a red gown and the Chinese believed that in such ill-fated deaths, the deceased would come back and take revenge. Till today, Madam Siah believed that Jasmine had taken her revenge.