The Old Woman

Eight year old Jonathan had noticed her the very first time he passed the window. He did not know why he noticed her but he did. Perhaps it was because he did not know anybody in this new city. He had not made any friends since he started school, not that he cared very much about little people that were only interested in his lunch, his pocket money and his things in his school bag.
Perhaps it was because she caught his stare with piercing almond eyes and made him feel light headed. Like she had seen into his soul. Then the world had felt heavy again and he fell to the ground. When he got up, the old woman was gone. But as he walked home, he could not forget the blue, piercing eyes of the little old chinese woman.
The next few days he caught the old woman sweeping, mopping and wiping the tables and windows. He wondered how she could do all that work and not get tired. He also noticed a big Fijian man in the bar. He looked to be 26 or 27 years old and he was always lying with his feet up at one of the computers. He was not the boss because everytime a dark lady entered the bar, he was always doing something that looked like work. Jonathan didn't like him.
Then one day after school, he caught the old woman reading something. Curiosity overcame him and he decided to walk into the bar. The old woman looked up when he entered. Jonathan looked around. At one side, there was a bar which served food and drinks, another side which had computers and where the old woman was sitting, tables and chairs. The Fijian man was at one of the computers, laughing with headphones on.
'Can I help you child?' It was the old woman. Jonathan looked at her. She was older close up but her eyes, they were alive. He shook his head.
'No mam. I was just looking,' he answered.
'Well look all you like,' she said. 'Just be careful that you do not lose your things in here.'
Jonathan wondered what she meant by that.
A woman behind the bar shouted out. 'Hey Jovelisi, go and clean the windows! You were supposed to do them in the morning!'
The young Fijian man at the computer looked up angrily. 'Can't you see I'm busy talking to my future wife? Tell the stupid old china woman to do it. These people come here and steal our jobs and become rich. Otherwise, tell her to go back to China to the rice farm where she belongs! She's lucky to have such an easy job!'
Jonathan disliked him instantly. He had seen people like him in other countries. His parents worked in different countries all the time and almost every place they had been, they called him spoilt, white rich boy and his parents as job stealers. They didn't realise that his parents were there to help their country, to boost their education system and set up fair policies. They didn't understand that his parents were trying to help them. He had also seen them treat other races badly, especially the ones that worked hard and saved some money for themselves.
He was only eight years old and already he knew that people worked very hard, day and night, from 4am to 11pm trying to put food on the table. That everyday they worried about their children, their education and this made them do any job, anything at all if it meant they could earn some money. He had heard his cousin in England say once, 'Why should we do such dirty jobs? We can leave them to the Polish and Eastern Europeans coming in. They'd work for anything!'
Then when his cousin could not find a job, even as a waiter in a restaurant, he had said, 'We should get rid of all these stinking foreigners. They take all our jobs and we can't even do the dirty ones.'
Jonathan was too young at the time to understand but now that he did, he wished he could have said, 'Bosses don't want to employ lazy, selfish people like you that complain all the time. Bosses want people that work and guess what, all the stinking foreigners work very hard because they know what it's like to have nothing!' As far as he knew, his cousin was still living off the dole.
Jonathan looked at the old woman again. Gathering the courage he asked her, 'What are you reading?'
She rested her blue eyes upon him and said, 'A story. And I am not reading it, I am living it!'
Jonathan didn't understand. The old woman noticed this and smiled.
'What is your name?' she asked.
'Jonathan.'
'Ah, a biblical name. Well Jonathan, you can call me Popo.' She gestured to her book. "I live a story each day Jonathan. Sometimes I can live a story for several days, weeks, months and even years! I live them from my memories, from this world, from insects to fish. I am full of stories and I am a story.'
She leaned foward. Jonathan saw every single wrinkle and age spot on her face. 'My whole face is a story,' and saying that, she leaned back and laughed a giggly girly laugh. Her book fell open in the middle and Jonathan saw that the pages were blank. The old woman was right about one thing - she hadn't been reading.
'Will you tell me a story Popo?' he asked.
Popo stopped laughing and looked at him. She spoke in a strong Chinese accent then. 'Not tude Cho-na-tan. Me have to clean window fo sad computer monkey ova dere. He tink he got wife now afta computer kissy kissy but dat only becos she cannot smell him. You come tomorrow ok? It monkey day off and maybe he go to banana plantation.'
Jonathan smiled and nodded. 'Ok Popo. I will see you tomorrow.'

(to be continued......)