The moody shopkeeper
The recycling of the shopkeeper's moods
I want to share a couple of memories with you. Here is the first one.
I am going back to 1961 where I am standing in a shop on Mengo Road, in Mengo, on the outskirts of Kampala, the Capital of Uganda. The Asian trader who runs the shop is bent over behind the counter, attending to a few chores and just as I walk in, he greets me and asks about everyone. I start to look for the notebook that I had come in to buy. "Yes?" he asks, looking at the African woman who is also there, examining the shiny saucepans on sale. "Do you want to buy this, do you have the money?" he asks with thinly disguised impatience. The woman says something meekly. The trader cannot hear anything, nor can I.
" I say! Do you want to buy these sufurias", pointing harshly at the saucepans.
The woman nods, with a half smile but also half closing her eyes, an expression which brings her rounded cheeks below her small eyes into prominence. They are shining with the oils in her body. The shopkeeper starts his questioning again.
" Show me your money, you, or get out!" he shouts. " Maney? ah haff maney" the woman pleads," but it is at houme.... How maach?" she asks having decided which saucepan she wants. "No! You go!" decides the shopkeeper.
Turning to me he says," These ------- people dont have the money and they come in here to waste my time!" he explains. He asks me if I have noticed a smell in the shop. "I cant smell anything" I reply. He says that a smell has been left behind by the woman.
Just then an Asian 'lady' walks in and starts to admire the same saucepans. Turning to him, she asks for the price. He readily gives the price and waits expectantly but also aware that the woman is going to haggle. After a bit of offer and counter-offer, a sale is made for Shs 20/- with no change given. The Asian woman has hardly walked out of the shop when Karin, the local German doctor's wife comes in. " What lovely saucepans! Come here Helga" she shouts to her colleague. " Oh! Mr Patel! How much are these lovely saucepans?" she drools.
" For you, madame, only Shs 45" replies a beaming Mr Patel. " No, no, no, no, noh! Too mach Mr Patel!" at which the trader says, " OK, you doctor wife, I give you for Shs 35". Helga, who has also been watching says," No. Shs 30, final,OK?" with uncertain authority. Mr Patel starts to pack the saucepan. Karin starts to pull some Ugandan notes out of her purse and hands over Shs 30, and starts to walk out with her shining new saucepans.
"Here, madam!",says Mr Patel," Holding out two shillings," You doctor wife! I give you special discount!"
In the course of some twenty minutes, Mr Patel has managed to get rid of one African customer, sold a saucepan to an Asian woman for Shs 20 and then offered a special deal to the German woman for Shs 28/- " I dont think there is any smell in the shop" I remind him. " Dont worry," replies the shopkeeper," These bloody Africans..." he mutters to himself just as he returns to his chores behind the counter. " I am expecting more notebooks next week. You come back, OK?" he speaks out from behind the counter. I realise that he has figured out that I am not going to buy that notebook. He has got rid of me but very politely.
I want to share a couple of memories with you. Here is the first one.
I am going back to 1961 where I am standing in a shop on Mengo Road, in Mengo, on the outskirts of Kampala, the Capital of Uganda. The Asian trader who runs the shop is bent over behind the counter, attending to a few chores and just as I walk in, he greets me and asks about everyone. I start to look for the notebook that I had come in to buy. "Yes?" he asks, looking at the African woman who is also there, examining the shiny saucepans on sale. "Do you want to buy this, do you have the money?" he asks with thinly disguised impatience. The woman says something meekly. The trader cannot hear anything, nor can I.
" I say! Do you want to buy these sufurias", pointing harshly at the saucepans.
The woman nods, with a half smile but also half closing her eyes, an expression which brings her rounded cheeks below her small eyes into prominence. They are shining with the oils in her body. The shopkeeper starts his questioning again.
" Show me your money, you, or get out!" he shouts. " Maney? ah haff maney" the woman pleads," but it is at houme.... How maach?" she asks having decided which saucepan she wants. "No! You go!" decides the shopkeeper.
Turning to me he says," These ------- people dont have the money and they come in here to waste my time!" he explains. He asks me if I have noticed a smell in the shop. "I cant smell anything" I reply. He says that a smell has been left behind by the woman.
Just then an Asian 'lady' walks in and starts to admire the same saucepans. Turning to him, she asks for the price. He readily gives the price and waits expectantly but also aware that the woman is going to haggle. After a bit of offer and counter-offer, a sale is made for Shs 20/- with no change given. The Asian woman has hardly walked out of the shop when Karin, the local German doctor's wife comes in. " What lovely saucepans! Come here Helga" she shouts to her colleague. " Oh! Mr Patel! How much are these lovely saucepans?" she drools.
" For you, madame, only Shs 45" replies a beaming Mr Patel. " No, no, no, no, noh! Too mach Mr Patel!" at which the trader says, " OK, you doctor wife, I give you for Shs 35". Helga, who has also been watching says," No. Shs 30, final,OK?" with uncertain authority. Mr Patel starts to pack the saucepan. Karin starts to pull some Ugandan notes out of her purse and hands over Shs 30, and starts to walk out with her shining new saucepans.
"Here, madam!",says Mr Patel," Holding out two shillings," You doctor wife! I give you special discount!"
In the course of some twenty minutes, Mr Patel has managed to get rid of one African customer, sold a saucepan to an Asian woman for Shs 20 and then offered a special deal to the German woman for Shs 28/- " I dont think there is any smell in the shop" I remind him. " Dont worry," replies the shopkeeper," These bloody Africans..." he mutters to himself just as he returns to his chores behind the counter. " I am expecting more notebooks next week. You come back, OK?" he speaks out from behind the counter. I realise that he has figured out that I am not going to buy that notebook. He has got rid of me but very politely.
posted by K Singh Ajimal at
12:41 am
1 Comments:
You have portrayed a very interestign scenario. I would not call it "moods"; I would it an attitude problem and a way of life with some Indians of that Era. Pity is that some of these attitudes have prevailed to this day in East Africa. When will things ever change?
By
Anonymous, at 2:30 pm
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