filipinos love a good bargain and when you can get it in installment, that's even better. it is one way to acquire something that you otherwise won't get because the price is restrictive and for the vendor, it is one of the sure ways to make a sale.
mr. singh is one such vendor. he was an indian sikh. he was a large man, quite imposing, but very soft spoken. the first time i remember seeing him, he wore a black turban, a dress shirt, a formal pair of pants and dress shoes. he carried with him a large cloth bundle, filled with neatly folded and wrapped fabrics in beautiful patterns, and blankets, that he slung around his shoulder. he also carried several large umbrellas with intricately carved wooden handles. he usually came to someone's house and there, the owner would call the ladies around the neighbourhood, sort of like the Tupperware party. people would haggle for a lower price, and mr. singh would usually give them a good discount.
mr. singh must have had a terrific memory because as far as we knew, he never kept a record of people's purchases and payments. he would always write them down on a calendar on the wall or the wall itself, in his little calligraphy that nobody had been able to discern.
at year's end, he would also provide his customers with a calendar, and my mother was no exception. my mother loved the calendars from mr. singh because it had big numbers that she could see from as far as the next town, meaning they were really huge, and it had the names of all the possible saints in the world. i liked the calendars because it had moon phases and some history sometimes. mr. singh would also write at the back whatever my mother owed and the payments he received.
one mid January, mr. singh arrived and was about to write in my mother's payment that day when he realized it was a new calendar he was holding. he asked where the old calendar was and got a little bit annoyed when he was told that the calendar had been discarded. it was not a problem though because he had a terrific memory and he knew what was the balance. that happened quite a few times so one day, he wrote mother's payments on the outside wall of the house.
my father's job was painting houses and one day came home with a few cans of paint. he painted the interior of the house as well as the outside. mr. singh was annoyed that his list was gone. he told my father he shouldn't have painted the wall outside, and my father told him, "it's my house, i will paint it when i want to!"
mr. singh over the years had some transformation. as i said in the beginning, he would peddle his wares on foot. later on he came riding a really nice bicycle. by the time i was a teenager, he was riding a motorcycle, and he had a store at the market. A few months after my mother died, he suddenly showed up even though my mother no longer bought stuff from him. When my father told him about mother's death, he limply sat down on a chair, which he never did without asking or unless he was asked to sit. he asked my father if he could have a glass of water. my father gave him a shot of rhum, which he declined. when my father asked if mother owed him money, he said "no" he came because he just wanted to show her he now has a car.
-o0o-
the shot is from last january during my visit to manila. the house is the 'master unit' at the resort that my friend owns.
Love the colour of the Canna flowers (not sure what they are called elsewhere but in South Africa they are Cannas!). A wonderful story and it seems like Mr Singh did alright for himself!
