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so I'm sorry I'll get back to it! |
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I wait to pay for my two cards as a little woman overpowered by her huge white head scarf counts little bundles of money. After a while she thinks to mention to her Indian college that there is a customer and as the large Indian woman moves around the counter she asks me if I want to buy one of the little green cards which are sitting in a basket. She explain that the card has a orphans name on it, and I then buy a Christmas present. I mumble that I might not be here for Christmas. I can tell she is wondering why I refuse, as I wonder why a blatantly Hindu woman is plying a ‘christen’ gimmick. In the end I’m no wiser and she is totally disgusted that I won’t spend my white money. She puts my plastic bag on the counter and turns away to talk in Malay to her collage. I’ve made it into the first rack of clothes, just inside the doors, when I spot the fat middle eastern woman strolling over, demanding that she can help me. My quite, “I’m just looking” doesn’t help and that’s the instant I knew I’d made my second mistake of the day. She’s slid up and leaning on the cloths, eyeing me up and down. I once had a friend who did a similar party trick, except it was bras she sold, so being having someone name your cup size without needing to grope was a little more amusing. The shop assistant’s face is framed by black curly hair, and her red mouth opens to proclaim that she has a dress which I just must try on. I’m shown the special dress. Which turns out to be a knee length dress made from shiny black panels which looks like they have been glue together. I refrain from asking why I would want something which looks worse than the dress I’ve got on, and instead smile and inform her that I’ve spent all my money for today. I move away, looking at another rack filled with Indian style embroiled dresses. She say’s in a loud voice for the benefit of her friend sitting behind two racks of dresses, “Oh, you should save your money.” I finger some scarves and catch her eye while she is sitting talking to her friend “How much are these?” I ask. The pig’s face consorts, and mutters “A scarf only? 45 ringet.” The one which has caught my eye is a yellow, red, and brown rainbow design, and God only knows where I would use it. I make some comment regarding Christmas presents, and I can tell she is not impressed with this white woman. I leave the shop remembering to return when I’m having a particle bad day. I walk into the fish shop hunting for gravel. Once I find the packets the owner finds me. “3.50” I nod and head towards the counter to pay. I take a little time to be side tracked and befriend the little brown dog in the cage. Once I make it to the counter the assistant shop assistant ask me for “3 dollars” which I pay, wondering if I’ve lost 50 sens worth of gravel in my walk arose the shop. The moral? God knows, but I wish he would tell me, what is this lesson that she is trying to teach me. It might be to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to tell them that I would have sponsored a child’s education, holiday, or a meal. But to give a child I know nothing about a present? No. Presents in this world are special, they are not given from strangers. The only thing I could have given which would have bridged that gap was a book. And since these children are not English, I refuse to give them English books, which are the only ones I know anything about. No I’ll leave the little green cards for other people who will gladly spend that money to ease their hearts on the 24 th. I wanted to tell them that at the moment I didn’t have the money even for a 45 dollar scarf, but that if I saw something in the shop I liked then I would come back. No, the energy just seems wasted. I wanted to tell the assistant that his boss had charged 50 sen more. I wish now I had. Not because they would have been embarrass, no, traders here never are. But because it would have informed them that I knew what they were doing. And that if they felt they needed to do it, then I was not one to begrudge them 50 sens. One might wonder why I held my tongue to these strangers, yet ram my thoughts down my friends throats? Well, because I care about my friends, and any energy spent talking to them is not wasted. They help me form my options, strangers just start my writing ball rolling. |
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