The back of her shirt was drenched from the rain dripping from the edge of the oversized umbrella covering their makeshift stall beside the road. Both her husband and her were squatting over an enormous wooden chopping board, handling one fish after another at the request of the few customers standing over them. The stench from the vast arrays of fish spread over the neon blue plastic cover on the tar road was overwhelming; I clasped the umbrella I was sharing with Mom between my arm and chest to cover my nose not-so-discreetly, squirming as something that resembled a fish scale fell on my right feet.
The lady handed Mom the bundle of fresh fishes she'd ordered over the phone earlier. Mom indicated for me to carry the wet plastic bags as she took out some money from her purse for the lady. I reached over to grab hold of the plastic handles with two fingers and waited impatiently for Dad to come pick us up. I dumped the bags into the car the moment Dad pulled up next to the stall and got in, immediately wiping my hands and feet wih the scented anti-bacterial gel I always keep in my bag.
The traffic lights were still red. I looked out of the window at the fish stall. The lady and her husband continued to chop and gut the fishes in the middle of the pouring rain, occasionally wiping sweat or rainwater from the faces with their rough, bloodied hands. The colorful, oversized umbrella hanging over their little stall was not enough to shield both of them from the rain; the man's t-shirt was soaked to the bone, but he seemed oblivious to it. Both their black rubber boots had millions of fish scales stuck on them.
I looked at the scented anti-bacterial gel still on my lap, down to my scale-less feet, and felt a sense of guilt creeping up on me.
They're here selling fish everyday, rain or shine, Dad spoke suddenly, looking at me from the rearview mirror. They travel early morning to get the fishes daily from some pantai, and set up stall here till late at night, or until they finish selling all their stocks.
The lights turned green and we moved along; but I was intrigued. Do they earn a lot of money this way?
Dad shook his head slightly. Probably enough to live day by day, he said as he increased the speed of the wipers, the rain splattering ever so heavily. It's a tough life for a lot of people out there.
It was a humbling moment of self-reflection. So caught up was I with the holiday season and everything (and everyone) around me that grumbling about not having enough annual leaves, cursing my job for violating all sorts of labor laws, swindling medical leaves in order to indulge in my notions of a "well-deserved holiday" seemed to have become acceptable behavior (to self). I'd allowed such materialistic notions to manifest within me a childish sort of bitterness towards my current work circumstances.
I need to be rid of this obnoxious and immature mindset.
Immediately, something like fish scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again. - Acts 9:18
