An Ordinary Scene

This morning, I went to Lawson to buy some snacks and thought about relaxing there. It’s a pretty comfortable place to enjoy some light food. I sat by the window with a direct view of the highway, watching many vehicles pass by, the parking attendant, and a woman selling Nasi Uduk (Indonesian food) right in front of the parking area.

It was such an ordinary scene, nothing special at all—just another day. At least, that's what I thought at the time. Then, I saw a man carrying a large sack on his back. He entered the parking area and checked the trash bins, looking for empty bottles, picking them up, and putting them into his sack. This too was a common sight, as it seems we see something like this every day in every part of the city.

Oddly enough, I wasn’t just seeing this man. After he left my view, a woman with a large plastic bag entered the parking area and did the same thing as the man before her, until she too disappeared from my sight. Afterward, another woman passed by, this time carrying a large tray on her head, which I assumed was filled with cakes and fried snacks.

It felt like if I stayed in this seat until evening, I might see this scene more than a hundred times. It made me think, in these "ordinary scenes" that I witness every day, there is so much hope and pain hidden beneath.

Then, at one point, an elderly man appeared, dressed in colorful clothing from head to neck, holding a curly yellow wig in his hand. He approached the woman selling nasi uduk in front of the parking area and bought a plate of rice. Since the weather was quite sunny this morning, the warmth of the sun was enough to keep people cozy. He decided to eat his plate of nasi uduk right in front of me. The difference was, I was inside Lawson with the coolness of the air conditioning, while he sat on the floor outside the mini-market. We were separated by a glass window and a chair.

Although he was sitting with his back to me, I could see his face as he occasionally turned to the side to take a sip of his warm tea. He also glanced back at me, bowing his head slightly as if to convey that he just wanted to eat in front of me. I nodded back in acknowledgment.

I didn’t know what was in his heart, but from his somewhat dirty face and slightly red eyes, it seemed like he hadn’t slept. It led me to conclude that he was utterly exhausted. I wondered how many kilometers he had walked barefoot, how much money he had earned; it didn’t seem like he had much, unlike the clowns that are often seen on social media.

This ordinary scene that most people would overlook troubled me deeply. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling. Was it comfort in the realization that I’m not the only one struggling? Sadness because there are so many others out there who have it even harder? Happy or sad? I didn’t know. What I did know was that I wasn’t alone in experiencing this pain, and it made me decide to keep moving forward as far as I could. Whether my dreams were waiting for me at the end or there was nothing there at all? I didn’t know. But I knew I could still walk.

I think the man with the sack, the woman with the large plastic bag, the woman with the big tray on her head, and the elderly man in front of me, were all thinking the same thing, “As long as I can still walk, I will keep walking, even though I don’t know what’s waiting ahead.”