It was January 1998 in Seoul. Aunt Constance and I had arrived not long ago from Tokyo, and had spent the day at a blind school learning new technologies that Korea had adopted to help educate the blind. I sat in amazement as I watched Aunt Constance try to learn some conversational Korean to charm her hosts.
We were brought to some tourist attractions which I can't really recall now, but it was close to evening when we finally had some free time to do our own things. Under the recommendation of a close friend, we took a cab and arrived at Nande-mun, one of the busiest shopping districts in Seoul.
We walked along the markets, marveling at the amount of imitation goods on sale. I had never seen that many branded goods at such ridiculous prices. Not that I would go brand shopping in the first place. On the contrary, I usually avoid them, and still mainly do.
I described the area to Aunt Constance as we moved from shop to shop, her constantly calculating in her mind what the conversion rate would come to. We eventually started counting the number of Prada bags that we could get for everyone - aunts, cousins, family members. We were so busy laughing and having so much fun, shopping for others that we soon realised that we had to get another piece of luggage just to bring all these gifts home. That was one of the first times when I truly realised the joys of giving.
It was near meal time, and we were starving. It looked like we were constantly presented with only two options - soup or BBQ. Not particularly in the mood for either, I quickly swept my eyes across the horizon and saw a Burger King. That would have to do. We strolled through the crowded pathway in the cold towards the crossing.
She was sitting, crouched under a heated blanket. Her face was crinkly but kind, and no one was around her stall. She was selling silk scarves, hardly the right product for the wintry conditions that we were subjected to. I stopped and looked. Aunt Constance, holding onto my hand, asked me what's wrong. I mentioned the elderly woman.
"She reminds me of Po Po", I said, the memory of Po Po still fresh in both our minds, since it had been less than four months after her death. We both stood in silence for a little while till Aunt Constance said "What is she doing?". "Selling silk scarves", I replied. "What kind?" she said. "Branded - like Hermes, Louis Vuitton etc", I said. "How much are they?" she asked.
I brought her forward. The elderly woman turned her face upwards to meet my glance, not speaking. I saw the price on the cardboard that someone had scrawled. I can't remember how much it was, but it was rather cheap. We bought three scarves, paid and continued towards our destination. I looked back at the elderly woman, silent and still as she was when we first approached, feeling that same strange sense of loss.
I sat Aunt Constance down at a table in Burger King and approached the counter to order. When I returned, she was deep in thought. She asked me again what kind of scarves they were. I described them as best as I could. She carried on in silence and then said, "I think we can go back and buy more from her. I have my landlady, my mother-in-law, my friends that I could give these scarves to." I nearly cried tears of joy as I said "I can give them to my aunt and her mother-in-law as well when I go to Australia next month". We smiled and tucked into our meals merrily.
I believe the elderly woman was surprised when we returned, probably afraid that we would ask for a refund. I started choosing the scarves again and we counted and recounted the number of people we could buy for. We bought another ten in total, and we received the biggest reward - her toothless grin. A wide smile that broke my heart at that moment because it brought back memories of Po Po in the fullest. I shared that with Aunt Constance and we both wished her goodbye.
Exhausted by that experience, we decided to take a cab home. On the way back in the cab, Aunt Constance asked me to describe the woman again and I did. We shared another moment of silence, me with quiet tears. Aunt Constance said that one of her biggest regrets was when she travelled with Po Po to HK and it was on their last day. Since they had forgotten to reserve extra money for airport taxes, they were left with nothing after paying that. She said they passed by a confectionery, and Po Po remarked at how delicious the cakes looked, but they couldn't get any because they had no more money left.
She then told me another story about how she learned about the joys of giving from Po Po. She was about five years old then, before she lost her sight, and Po Po used to bring her to the Tek Kah Market every day.
This particular day, they walked passed a disabled (handicap) man with his young daughter, begging on the side of the street. Forever the kind soul, Po Po immediately walked over and spoke to them. She gave him $5 out of the $7 marketing money she had for the day, hailed a trishaw, and paid another 50 cents for their journey home. She bade them farewell and then turned to Aunt Constance and said, "Always have pity on others more in need than us. Always lend a hand to them whenever we can."
With only $1.50 left, she couldn't buy much. So, when Gong Gong asked why there was no meat in the meals, Po Po only said that meat was expensive, so she bought lots of vegetables. Aunt Constance said that she never mentioned her good deed once.
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