THE DEBT

THE DEBT

Greenwich V is the closest shopping centre from my place, in the Seletar area. It is not easy to call it a shopping mall, since it is much smaller than most entities we are used to calling as ‘shopping malls’. But it does have the key requirements, including the grocery chain Cold Storage, a nail salon, a family clinic, the pharmaceutical chain Guardian,  a fitness center, a dental clinic, a bakery, a launderette, four language centers, five cafeterias, three restaurants, a chocolatier and even a Korean hair salon. And of course, as is expected in Singapore, it also has an air conditioned food court (Kopitiam) which is decent, to say the least.   

I do frequent this food court at least 4 times a week, and most of the stall owners and some of the staff are familiar to me. There is this Chinese aunty who I had noticed during my last few visits. She was probably in her seventies and wore a white uniform, which indicated that she was part of the cleaning staff; those who cleared the trays and plates, and washed them to be reused by the patrons. Aunty had a habit of smiling at most of the customers, and there were a few occasions when she had smiled at me and I had returned her smile. There was a noticeable warmth in her smile and I had observed enough to realise, that she offered this smile to almost every customer. That of course, did not mean that everyone would smile back at her.
 

That day, I had visited the food court with the sole intention of trying some Korean Beef Hotplate, a sizzler type dish where slices of beef are served in a scalding hot metal bed with lettuce and onions, and some sesame seeds sprinkled on top.
The Chinese lady who runs the Korean stall, called at me mechanically “haai, hellooo laaaai!”, as she always does, but she was pleasantly surprised when, unlike other days, I didn’t walk past  her stall that day and instead, stopped and ordered the beef hotplate. It was a set meal of $6 and I fished out a $10 bill from my pocket, to hand over to the lady. 

At this point, the smiling aunty walked up to me and asked me why I didn’t have a Kopitiam card, which would save me 10% every time I pay for my meals at a Kopitiam food court. I smiled and admitted that I was somewhat ignorant about it, in response to which, she insisted on taking me to the automated machine a few feet away. 

I was a little surprised, and the Korean stall lady didn’t seem to be too impressed with this delay in payment, either. But aunty was already walking towards the machine, so I signalled that I will return to pay and collect my food in a while, and started following aunty. 

Once we were at the machine, I gave aunty a $2 bill, the price for a new card, and aunty tried to insert it into the machine, but for some reason, it would not accept the bill. Aunty kept on trying, maybe another six times, but the machine wouldn’t budge. I took out three different $2 bills from my wallet, and aunty tried one of her own bills, but the machine simply rejected all of them. Aunty then walked up to the drinks stall, exchanged her own $10 bill and returned with two bills of $5 each, to give it another try. 

But the Kopitiam card machine had decided to go completely unresponsive. It returned every single bill that was inserted. 

Aunty looked almost desperate and I found it pretty funny.

With a laugh I told her, ‘It’s okay aunty, maybe we can try again tomorrow’, but aunty was not giving up so easily. By this time, the whole food court audience were staring at us with amusement. I started feeling a bit embarrassed, if not irritated, and I wanted this to get over soon.

Eventually aunty did decide to give up, as she turned and walked up to the Korean stall, then fished out her own Kopitiam card and handed it over to the lady at the stall. The hotplate was priced at $6, but the Kopitiam card enjoyed a 10% discount, so the effective amount debited was $5.40.

I said ‘thank you’ to Aunty and held out three bills of $2 to repay the debt, but she refused to accept! I insisted on and on for the next few minutes, even saying; ‘Aunty, I don’t owe any money to anyone. I am against keeping debts.’ But Aunty kept on declining as she smiled back; ‘You are nice to me, I am just happy buying you one lunch. Please take it as a small ‘thank you’ gift!’ 

All the other customers and stall owners were staring at us, and I could see the various expressions and sense the messages they were trying to convey. Some had this look of ‘Why doesn’t anyone pay for my lunch?’, while some others had this ‘Dude, your charm on old aunties will take you far!’ look on their faces.

Deciding against giving everyone a chance to keep watching this drama, I took the tray with the heavy, sizzling hotplate dish and walked to a nearby table. I looked at aunty and warmly requested; “Please come and sit with me aunty, if you are not very busy” and she agreed, and sat down in front of me. We had a casual chat, during which I made a few more pleas for her to allow me to repay the amount I owed her. She dismissed them with a smile.
While we chatted, aunty explained to me that she has a son, who lives far away and rarely comes back home. His age, as she mentioned, was a year older than mine.

As a last resort, I said; ‘Aunty, I am like your son, but please, I can’t take your money’ but aunty just kept her smile constant. Her eyes had this incredible depth in them, as she looked away for a moment and said something, which made me refrain from insisting any further.

“I am already old, I don’t need money, I just need someone to say hello to me, once in a while!” 

And then aunty got up and slowly walked away to the tray return area.

I kept my gaze fixed at her direction long after she had already disappeared from my view. Then I silently finished my meal and left the food court, but her words kept ringing in my ears for a long time.
In the following days, whenever I visited that food court, I would always look for aunty and greet her first, before ordering my own meal. There were many occasions, when aunty came and sat with me and we chatted casually, as I had my meal. Then one day, aunty asked me if I ate pork and when I nodded yes, she went back and brought her round tiffin case and served me some home made pork soup. 

When I tried to object, arguing that if she gave this to me, she would not be able to have her own meal properly, she calmly said; “I have my food already, this one I make for you!”

I must admit, even for a person like me, who has mastered the art of keeping his emotions to himself, it needed a massive effort and some grinding of my teeth, to prevent my eyes from getting moist. 

I still owe her S5.40 and I have decided never to pay her back. I will carry this debt till my last breath, but I will make sure I greet her with a hello at least three times every week, for the foreseeable future, if not more!!