An old lady with a large plastic bag half-full of keropok tapped on my window late last night as i was parked by the side of the road. I was shocked out of my skin, at first, but then seeing how harmless she was, i casually rolled down my window.
"Ya, makcik?"
"Tolong lah, 'nak - tolong belikan keropok makcik ni," she pleads, whipping out with some dexterity a couple packets of keropok pisang and kacang.
My first reaction was to say no (fattening stuff, keropok), but i took another moment to think about it, and decided that it wasn't really about the keropok, nor how it would affect my already ample tum-tum. It was about how i could help her, and she did look like she needed help.
Wandering the streets in the middle of the night, peddling a few measly packets of crisps, my mind screamed: "WHAT WAS SHE DOING HERE? WHERE WAS HER FAMILY? WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING?"
It took another moment to agree to buy the keropok, for extortionate prices, but i figured, RM3.50 per packet to me is a pittance, but it could mean so much to her. As i pulled away from the old lady last night, i couldn't help but cry in sadness.
