wooden cart

ben

Of all the second-hand stall vendors I had talked to, there was only one person who stole my heart. He's there in the bus station market. I also saw him in the Wednesday night market and even in the Walking Street market. I thought at first he was just there to accompany his son or anyone in the family because he's quite old for this job. The next time I went to the market, I saw him alone again. So in order for me to believe that he was just by himself, I got to the market earlier one evening. And expectedly, he was there alone opening the sacks of second hand shoes to be sold to the passers-by. I was wrong. He was really all alone.

But that's not it. What touched my heart was when I saw him one late night pushing his wooden cart carrying those sacks of shoes home. "No wonder he's got a hunched back," my mind was thinking. After a few minutes, I offered a hand and he yessed to it. I was able to experience and  follow his turtle-like pushing routine at night. I lost track of time. It took him and me 2 hours to reach his home. More than that, it tore my heart so much when he shouted a name in front of his house and later found out that he was talking to his 90-year old wife who had been bed-ridden for some years because of old age. At that time, I realized that he was working not for himself but for his better-half. As I turned my face back to glance at the couple after I bade goodbye, I saw this 85 year-old man feeding his wife with the rice porridge he bought when we stopped by near his house.