The Street Food Seller Journal – The Old Prisoner

“Good Evening!” said the man.
“Evenin” I replied.
“Chicken rice? As usual?” I added.

The old man nodded and said “But I don’t have much money to pay”.
“It’s ok, I’m sure you are hungry, pay me when you can” I answered his doubt.
“Thank you” he replied with such a relief.

The old man has been coming to my stall since four months ago. Short 5’4”, overweight, dark skin, lost most of his teeth and seems alone without anybody caring for him. He worked at a car wash shop, about 200 meters away from my stall. I always wonder why this old man worked at the carwash, at his age, every time he came around. His usual order is a pack of rice, two pieces of chicken and a whole lot of chilli sauce, which is quite popular amongst the locals.

“You want an iced tea too?” I asked as soon as he sat down while preparing his order.
“Yes, please” he replied with a smile.

A street food seller is like a bartender, we knew most of our customers, their name, their job, their kids and family. Well, maybe not in details but mostly in general. The one we don’t know, we will ask them. It is a part of the job really, a transformation period from a new customer to a regular customer for the business.

“How was your day brother? I asked while pouring his drink.
“Tiring, my back is killing me. The other staff are lazy, bad attitude even towards customers and a boss who always not around” he replied.
“So it was crappy day?” I asked with a smile.
“Every single day!” he replied, laughing. “What can I do, I’ve no choice. Who else wanted to hire a convict like me?” he added while nodding to me.

“I see…, wow! What happened?” I asked. I pulled a chair and sat across the table.

“Started about 40 years ago, now I am 59 years old. In my younger days, I was a hustler, a gangster, and an idiot. I was trapped in this dark life because of money. Although I am small, I was a good fighter because I learned to fight since I was a kid. The money was so good, it was endless. It was so easy to make money but I won’t tell you the details of what we have done. We partied every night, drinking alcohol, doing drugs and women. After a few years, I had cars, properties, and houses but no wife.” He said while looking deep into his past.

“How did you get caught?” I asked.
He lighted a cigarette and then he said, “Everybody will get caught, it is just a matter of time. I got caught three times, I did three years for the first time, two years for the second time and another three years for the third time. Supposed to be longer but they let me out of the prison serving 12 years confined to this area only after good behavior. I’ve to report myself to the police station every month. The government took away everything they can get from me. My money, my cars, my land and my houses” He answered.

Then he said he has another 4 years to go before they allowed him to go home which is in the big city. He said his mother bought a lot of lands when she was alive and he hopes to build a vegetables farm and breed chicken to sell. He also wished to get married someday to a Cambodian lady which I did not ask more about the matter.

He said he only has two dollars to pay for his food and drink because he didn’t receive his salary yet and I accepted it. I wanted to give it for free but he looked like a man who listed honor as his principles.

Just when he was excusing himself to go home, a question pops into my mind so I asked him “You said you wanted to build farms and breed chicken, how are you going to get the money?

He smiled and said, “they forgot about the jewelries”.