The people that you meet...

Every day, we have numerous sellers walk by our house calling out, wanting us to sell our recyclable rubbish or to buy their bread or “aromatic, delicious roasted eggs with special ingredients”. Mostly they just fade into the rest of the street noise, but there is one particular call that comes soon after 1pm every day. It’s distinctive because it sounds oddly like how I might call out to my two eldest children if I put their names together. I’ve even taken on the habit of using her sing-song tone to call them if I need their attention.

Last week, my curiosity got too much and I finally ran out with baby on hip and money in my pocket to find out what she sells. When I got out onto the dusty street, I saw that she had already been stopped by a worker from the building site diagonally across from us. She had taken her pole and two baskets off her shoulder and was squatting on the ground while she served him.

They both stared at me as I approached them. With a sudden shyness I stumbled through hello and asked what she was selling. She kindly showed me, lifting a wet cloth off one plastic bucket. Inside was an array of thick green rice noodles with a large block of melting ice to keep them cool. The colour came from a knot of banana leaves. She called the noodles “lote” (which it doesn’t sound much like either of my kids’ names). In the other basket she had a large saucepan with some almost transparent balls made from rice flour with perhaps beans in the middle.

Not fond of Khmer desserts, I reluctantly decided on the green noodles … but just a little. She took a bowl and rinsed it with water from a kettle and wiped it with a white rag before spooning into it some of the slippery noodles. She then added some coconut milk from another bucket and handed it to me, along with a spoon.

Squatting there, I balanced the baby on my knee and slowly sucked on the slippery jelly-like noodles. Meanwhile, I asked her whether her desserts are selling well at the moment. She proudly told me that she sells it all every day… but profits only $2.50. I cheekily glanced at her other client and suggested that she raise her prices, which sent the conversation off towards the current cost of coconuts.

I wanted to ask her more about herself, but the sun was beating down and my little boy was starting to squirm. Unlike me, she was dressed for the sun – long sleeves, long pants, hat and Khmer scarf wrapped around her head so that all I could see clearly were her wrinkly smiling eyes.

Unable to finish the noodles, I gave back the bowl half eaten not noticing where she put them. I paid her 500 riel (12.5 cents, the price of a full bowl) and refused her offer for change. My presence had attracted the attention of the other construction workers and she had a couple more bowls to fill.

As I said goodbye, I told her that I would try the rice balls next time (what was I thinking!!). Upon returning home, I took a double dose of acidophilus to fight anything I might have picked up from the “lote” or the communal utensils, and wished that I had been able to ask more questions of this obviously hardworking, yet poor, woman.

I share this with you because my encounter with the Lote Lady typifies my current relationship with members of my local community. Curiosity seeking answers. Relationships curbed by shyness and demands at home. Exposed enough for risk, but sheltered from really knowing. Impact on the community - purely economic.

This can be frustrating... only when I forget that my work here first and foremost is to remain in relationship with Jesus. From this, He will work and I just have to follow.