Today, as I stepped into the park for my morning walk, there was no mistaking the all too familiar smell wafting in the air. You either hate it or love it - the pungency of the durian! Simply overpowering. Too powerful to ignore in fact. No, I'm not about to enthuse about the king of fruit; nor is this an ode to nature's piece de resistance. Instead, I want to tell you about these women who are about as savvy as a Harvard marketing graduate (or even better), and made of similar stuff that Iaccoca was born with.
Not one to miss out on a golden opportunity, they ply their wares at the park from as early as 5.30 am every morning to make sure that they will not miss out on the early birds at the park. Between them, they have designated their own space - at intervals along the 2.5 km circular track outlining the park. Their table? Ready-made - the concrete park benches - upon which to display their merchandise. There is the taufu woman who sells just about anything that's made from soya bean, fish balls, and then some. There's the sprightly 60-something - who, given half the chance can sell ice to the Eskimos - with all manner of things gadgety and Chinese (meaning, made in China). "Trust me!" she squeals, at the top of her voice, to a lame onlooker - "Exercise only cannot; must massage at home, maa." If it is just your luck, you might depart with the massage thingy that promises to sort out your aching joints, in all directions. She is persuasion personified! Then there is the queen-of-fruits - with her colourful array of starfruits, pineapples, papayas, pomelos and rambutans. "Homegrown", she's quick to add with a swish of her rubber-gloved hands. I suspect she means organic compost too. Another one specialises in breads and buns, all neatly wrapped in plastic - "Ready to take away". And still another - the forlorn-looking woman who sits patiently by her styrofoam container, selling cartons of goat's milk. A white cardboard stuck on each side of the container extols the qualities of goat's milk that makes you wonder if it is already too late for you. Then, of course, there is the durian woman. She doesn't bring a lot of durians, mind you; but they all get taken up by the time the walkers straggle home, leaving her free to embark on her exercise routine.
The durian may be irresistable; but these women are simply gutsy! You might disapprove; after all, there is a time and place for selling. They are in the way of people enjoying their morning walk. The smell of the durian ''pollutes'' the crisp morning air, and obliterates the subtle fragrance of the bunga tanjung. Do you come to the park to have vendors in your face and ears?
But if selling is their livelihood, these women have chosen as good a place as any. Talk about location. Every morning people come in droves to the park - you have a potential market right there. If someone is selling, someone's bound to buy. Resourcefulness knows no time and place, and these women have got it.
Not one to miss out on a golden opportunity, they ply their wares at the park from as early as 5.30 am every morning to make sure that they will not miss out on the early birds at the park. Between them, they have designated their own space - at intervals along the 2.5 km circular track outlining the park. Their table? Ready-made - the concrete park benches - upon which to display their merchandise. There is the taufu woman who sells just about anything that's made from soya bean, fish balls, and then some. There's the sprightly 60-something - who, given half the chance can sell ice to the Eskimos - with all manner of things gadgety and Chinese (meaning, made in China). "Trust me!" she squeals, at the top of her voice, to a lame onlooker - "Exercise only cannot; must massage at home, maa." If it is just your luck, you might depart with the massage thingy that promises to sort out your aching joints, in all directions. She is persuasion personified! Then there is the queen-of-fruits - with her colourful array of starfruits, pineapples, papayas, pomelos and rambutans. "Homegrown", she's quick to add with a swish of her rubber-gloved hands. I suspect she means organic compost too. Another one specialises in breads and buns, all neatly wrapped in plastic - "Ready to take away". And still another - the forlorn-looking woman who sits patiently by her styrofoam container, selling cartons of goat's milk. A white cardboard stuck on each side of the container extols the qualities of goat's milk that makes you wonder if it is already too late for you. Then, of course, there is the durian woman. She doesn't bring a lot of durians, mind you; but they all get taken up by the time the walkers straggle home, leaving her free to embark on her exercise routine.
The durian may be irresistable; but these women are simply gutsy! You might disapprove; after all, there is a time and place for selling. They are in the way of people enjoying their morning walk. The smell of the durian ''pollutes'' the crisp morning air, and obliterates the subtle fragrance of the bunga tanjung. Do you come to the park to have vendors in your face and ears?
But if selling is their livelihood, these women have chosen as good a place as any. Talk about location. Every morning people come in droves to the park - you have a potential market right there. If someone is selling, someone's bound to buy. Resourcefulness knows no time and place, and these women have got it.
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